Time Warp Factor Five
by Jizena
Summary: In 3 parts, complete.  A peek into Gaz's journal, detailing a particularly interesting week.  A five-year time jump, the return of an old nemesis, and the discovery of a particular Invader's inner human...  ZAGR. M for language/violence.
1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

This is an old story of mine, originally written between 2002-03. I have consistently gone back to edit, but it is now, at last, complete. I wanted to, in this year (the tenth anniversary of the original show), share it, at last, online. Parts two and three to come, as well as its more massive sequel.

-Invader Zim is -c- Jhonen Vasquez.-

-All grammar and wordings herein are expressed and detailed in Gaz's writing.-

-All musical credit is given at the end of the document.-

~Jizena~

Time Warp Factor Five

Part One

I am not a heroine. Just putting that out there so you don't get disappointed by my inherent lack of leading lady qualities. I've been a lot of things lately; I wouldn't call 'heroic' one of them, even though my brother might disagree. He's the reason I'm writing in this stupid journal at all, by the way.

Here's what I am: a ten-year-old girl with a broader vocabulary than any of the teachers in my school (I'm in fourth grade and read things college English majors need to); a video game addict; intolerant of assholes and the preppy crowd; a Goth; a second—and youngest—child; I'm artistic, and prefer to be alone; finally, lately, I'm a little confused about what life's been handing me, and what to do now. Hence, the journal. It's okay, I guess. I have a lot to write about.

Anyway. I'm all that, but not a hero.

My older brother's nemesis is the hero.

Wow—it's harder to write about him than I thought. I haven't even written his name yet. That's sure to make me feel all kinds of weird. It's just the whole... after thought thing. How to move on after everything that just happened. How to go back to whatever 'normal' is. It's tough. And I can deal with a lot.

I feel like I'm pitching a movie, talking (well, writing) about the things that transpired. And, I mean, it all _did_ happen. This was a real week of my life, not some dream I had. The unopened gift on my nightstand proves it. So do my brother's eyes.

My older brother (by a little less than a year), Dib, and I—name's Gaz—both grew up with light brown eyes. His are nearsighted and mine abhor the sun. Our dad has brown eyes, I think—if I'm remembering right. Mom's were green, like real emeralds. I always kind of wish I'd gotten Mom's eyes. I more or less have her hair, though... mine's a slightly darker shade of purple than her's was (yes, natural purple). I'd call mine violet; hers was lilac. Our mom was from Finland, or at least that's what Dad told me, once, before he stopped talking about her. Dad's from Massachusetts originally, but spawned, I'm convinced, from insanity.

He's a mad scientist. I mean it. He's a scientist—mostly an inventor, but I think his degrees say he's a chemist and physicist—and he's pretty certifyably insane. If memory serves, he hasn't always been this crazy. Sure, he always was quirky and odd (a trait passed to my brother, for sure), but not always this neglectful of us, and not quite so... extreme. Is Dad ever extreme. He wears a lab coat every hour of the day, one with a high collar so I haven't seen his mouth in years, and on top of that, he wears goggles that block view of his eyes. Technically speaking, I haven't seen my dad since I was three. Over the past few years, Dad has also developed this weird speech pattern that he didn't always have. He speaks like he's always announcing something on TV. My dad, Professor Membrane, is an enigma. He's a really popular icon, and, as a result, spends more time inventing things and doing things "in the name of science!" on his eponymous television show than he does at home. Dib and I are used to it, though, and, until recently, have been just fine doing our own things.

We only recently really realized what being siblings was all about. Which is something I'll get to later, as I keep writing.

Man, recounting this stuff is weird. I feel like I'm just a girl who was literally dragged into someone else's war. My telling of the story you have unfortunately decided to read is most certainly not a glorious anecdote of mine, is not a grand retelling of past events. Rather, I tell it as it is. That I am writing this is absurd, but I will write it nonetheless. Keep in mind, also, that I am as much a storyteller as I am a heroine, so expect no certainty of this being even remotely "good."

That said, I suppose I'll begin.

First off, let me say, we are notalone. Not that I care, but it's true. Far beyond the reach of even the most powerful telescope, there lies a highly technologically advanced planet called Vort. Vortian scientists are probably the only organisms in the universe who know what the hell they are doing. They are, however, in the service of another planet.

That planet is Irk, and the root of all my problems. Irkens live under a height-based dictatorship, ruled by the Tallest of their race. Currently, the Irken empire, under the rule of two Tallest, Red and Purple, is focused primarily on galactic conquest, in a project known as Operation Impending Doom II. The best of the Irken soldiers were sent to enemy planets to conquer and claim them for the empire. These soldiers are aptly named: Invaders. The best of the best.

Not all Irkens are Invader material, and not all Irkens are very bright. One such Irken was 'sent' to our planet.

His name is Zim. Yep. Writing his name feels weird. Zim is a quick-witted, hot-tempered, red-eyed Irken, and not at all in the Tallests' favor. He's a failure at practically everything, but is stubborn and persistent enough to keep trying, convinced that he'll rule the Earth and perhaps be Tallest himself one day. He can dream if he wants, but I think a part of him knows that it's never going to happen.

Nice choice of words, Gaz. A part of him? Yeah, and I know exactly which part.

At Zim's side is a scrap-metal robot called GIR. GIR is, to put it bluntly, insane. He is the complete opposite of a true Invader's partner, and will even listen to a human if Mexican food is involved.

Right on Zim's trail is my brother, Dib. Dib is obsessed with the paranormal, and the only human, aside from me, who knows who and what Zim really is. Dib is a fifth-grader (like me, comprehends at the college level), with hereditarily spiky black hair (I say spiky, and I really mean it: both he and Dad have this weird thing about wearing a good bit of their hair really long, and spiked up in a scythe-like shape at the top... no, I don't know how they do it and I kind of don't want to) and a bit of an ego, which shines from his eyes right out through his circle-rimmed glasses, and which he accentuates with an annoying grin. Oddly enough, Mom had that grin, too, but it didn't bug me on her. When she grinned, three-year-old me knew she was up to something good.

I've no idea what happened to our mother. Dad doesn't even keep her picture around. Dib and I learned early on not to mention her, since Dad finds the subject… well, I don't know, really, but it gets him all worked up.

Anyway, that's not important right now. What is important is… the reason I'm telling this damn thing, I guess.

The Invasion began on March 30th, 2001. According to Dib's notes. GOD HE KEEPS THOSE LIKE CRAZY. It drives me nuts. He's always, like, "Gaz, at six-oh-three p.m. last Tuesday, I saw a werewolf feeding on a cow out at Truehart Farm, and—_blahblahblah."_ Yeah, okay, Dib, and what the fuck were you doing out at a farm on a fucking TUESDAY? Anyway. Zim and Dib have been at each other for almost a year and a half now, and neither of them has made much progress. This August, however, a lot was about to change.

It was the last day of summer. Dib and I had been loitering at the arcade, enjoying our last few hours of freedom. At about 7:30, the sky slowly started to darken. As if on cue, a couple of teenagers hurriedly kicked us out, laughing about God knows what, but I clearly heard the words 'curfew' and 'stupid little kids' in there. I quickly committed their faces to memory so that I could later hunt them down and chop their balls off. I smiled inwardly at the idea.

"I'm sick of that," Dib said abruptly, brushing himself off.

"Huh?" I said, snapping out of my thoughts as we started walking home.

"_Teenagers,"_ Dib answered in an irritated tone of voice. "I'm sick of teenagers—and adults—telling me what I can and can't do."

"Face it, they're morons," I growled.

"Yeah, and they deserve to be downsized," my brother agreed. "In a few years, Gaz, when I'm older—" he cracked his knuckles— "I won't tolerate that sort of thing."

"Look," I warned. "If you keep making me a part of these stupid conversations, it's debatable."

"What?"

"That you even _live_ to _be_ a teenager."

"Oh."

We kept on walking, in silence, for a while. It was fairly quiet for such a night as it was; only a few cars, some dogs, the occasional drunk hobo. And then _her._ I hadn't noticed it at first, but, as we neared the school, a blur darted past us. A cat. A black, sleek, red-eyed cat. No… a robot. _MiMi._

I thought we'd seen the last of her that February. I've got to admit, I was caught off guard. Dib was, too, apparently. "What the—" he gasped in alarm as MiMi brushed by and stopped just a few feet away.

My gaze went from MiMi to the girl now standing beside her. No mistake. It was Tak.

Tak, a would-be Invader whose dreams were shattered by a power surge on the Irken military training planet, Devastis, decades ago; Tak, who hated Zim more than anyone could ever imagine; Tak, whose only ambition had been to become an Invader and 'reclaim' her mission, had returned.

Her purple eyes flickered and she folded her arms, passing very well as a human girl of around twelve, with indigo hair and a telltale beauty mark underneath her left eye.

"You…" she snarled. That was all. Just… "You."

_"Tak?" _said Dib unreadably. "What the—what are you _doing_ here?" Tak simply scowled. During her last 'visit,' we pretty literally did battle with her. We even joined up with Zim to do it; he led us down into the bowels of his base of operations, in fact, such was his desperation to shake this Irken rogue. If Zim was disliked by the Tallest, Tak was utterly hated. She'd been banished and called a rebel and a menace more times than Zim had been called an idiot, as far as I know. Also, as far as I knew at this point, Zim had shaken her for good. Then again, his word never was much before. Hence, Dib repeating the question, "Seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you... uh..." He scratched his head, as if to jostle his brain. "What actually did happen to you?"

"That does not matter," Tak glowered, in her seemingly British accent; a biting, throaty alto.

Dib was unaffected by the comment. He rarely is. Affected by weird things weird people say to him, I mean. For a second, he even looked steadfast, resilient. His glasses glinted in the last of the evening sun, mirroring the flash that flickered from Tak's right eye to her left—a hypnotic, surely installed and maybe illegal, Irken ability of hers that had just as much impact in her hologram as it did when she appeared as she truly looked. "Tak, what are you doing here?" Dib asked again. Third time's the charm.

"Teaching you a lesson," Tak answered, "not to _fool_ with me! Last time you got lucky, but _this_ time…" There was a hint of elation in her voice, and she grinned.

"This time what?" Dib asked nervously.

"This time, I _will_ get my revenge."

"You said you weren't _after_ revenge."

"Well, I am now!"

"Hey," I interjected. "How, exactly, are you gonna _get_ revenge? Cuz if you're not even gonna explain it to us, I'm leaving."

"Gaz!" Dib shot. I snorted.

"Fine," said Tak. "If you _must_ know…" she lowered her voice, "I am going to make you all horribly, _horribly_ miserable."

"Huh?" was all Dib could say.

Tak rolled her eyes. "Last time, when you three somehow managed to get rid of me, I found my way back to Devastis. I hid there, so I wouldn't be sent away again, or have to face the unbridled humiliation of being a failure."

"How is that unbridled?" Dib chided.

"Shut up!" Tak snapped. "Anyway, while I was there, I found two discarded machine prototypes. I set to work, then commandeered a new ship so that I could try them out on _you."_ Without warning (and in plain view of… well, no one, really), she slapped cuffs on my and Dib's wrists. "You take them off, you doom the _world_ to your fate," she hissed.

"What the hell are these?" my brother demanded as the two of us fought to get them off.

"They're links to _this,"_ answered Tak, holding up a controller. "The _Time-Warp Machine."_

_ "Time Warp?"_

"Yes," Tak said triumphantly. She was ecstatic, and overenunciating her words, as if that would make us think her plan was that much greater. "And because it is linked directly to you, it will only affect you. I'm sure it will be… entertaining."

"What're you going to _do?"_ Dib demanded.

"I'm going to rewind your time," Tak said with a grin. "I'm going to make sure that you'll be _much_ too young to be a threat, much to young to even _know_ what's going on. And then, I'll destroy Zim."

"What?" I shouted. "That's _stupid!"_

"Call it what you want, little Gaz," said Tak, pushing a button on the controller. "But it's _going_ to happen."

"Oh, no, it's _not!"_ I said, approaching and slapping the controller out of her hands.

Dib picked it up and fiddled with the knobs, then got another idea. He freed himself of the handcuffs, and I followed suit; then the two of us rushed off as fast as we could.

_"What have you done?"_ Tak screamed after us. "Time Warp Factor… _five?"_

And then the controller blew up.

Dib and I raced home, trying hard to outrun the advancing wall of purple light being emitted by the controller.

"Why the hell did you do that?" I shouted as we ran up the walkway and into our house.

"Well, what else could I do?" Dib covered.

I just groaned and stomped my foot, then stormed upstairs into my room. The purple light crept through the window and I suddenly felt very tired and sore, so I flopped onto the bed and immediately fell asleep.

– – –

I awoke the next morning feeling strangely recharged. I yawned and swung my legs over the side of my bed, ready to just leap off and haul myself to school.

Only…

_…my feet touched the floor._

I looked down, aghast, and my eyes widened. _My feet were touching the floor!_ My legs were longer, as were, I realized, my arms and torso!

I stumbled out of bed and ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror. An older version of myself stared back at me. I couldn't believe it. I slapped myself—hard—across the face so I'd wake the hell up.

I didn't.

So I did the next thing that came to mind. I screamed. _God,_ how I screamed. I took a breath to look in the mirror once more. I noticed that I was now wearing a long black shirt and skull-print pajama boxers, and that my hair was tied messily back into pigtails, and just how _tall_ I was, and that my ears were pierced and… I just _knew_ something hadn't felt right! Though obscured slightly by the shirt, I could definitely tell that I was… well… not flat… anymore.

And I screamed again.

This time, it was echoed by a startled yelp from my brother, a thud, and then footsteps racing down the hall.

_"Gaz?"_

My brother's voice… yes, but it was just a little lower, almost _mature,_ but it cracked ever so slightly, as though trying to find a medium.

"Holy _shit," _I managed to say, stumbling backward a bit. It was then that I realized that even _my_ voice had changed somewhat. _"Dib?"_

He nodded, but looked just as disoriented as me.

He was now nearly six feet tall, and, though having a fairly thin build, seemed very physically strong. His shoulders were broader than I'd have expected him to grow into, and his face, suffice it to say, just did not read 'eleven' to me. His cheekbones were higher set, his chin a bit more square; he wore differently-shaped glasses, too... thin ovals framed his eyes, rather than seeing them hidden behind raccoon-like full circles. Unlike me, he was completely dressed, very similarly to the way he normally did: a long black trenchcoat, this one with a high collar and an undone buckle round the neck, open over a dark blue shirt and black jeans (I'm pretty sure the jeans were new; usually Dib wasn't one for denim), all coming down to a pair of calf-high, twice-buckled, steel-toed black boots, which may or may not have been adding to his unbelievable new height. His hair was a tad longer than before, and kept in its scythe shape atop his head, but, all in all, it was undeniably Dib standing before me.

"Yeah," he said. "It's me."

"What…" I began, "the hell… _happened?"_

"I have no clue."

_"NO CLUE?" _I repeated. "Look, you're the expert on weird stuff like this! You tell me what happened right now!"

"I really wish I could," he admitted.

"Well, what should we do?"

"I don't know."

"You're not good for anything!" I spat, pushing past him and down the hall.

"Wait!" he hollered after me. I spun around and almost tripped. "We could ask Dad for—"

_"When?"_ I retorted. "He's never _home!"_ I flung my hands up in the air briefly and continued with, "Why not go ask Tak? Or that stupid Zim? Or how about I jump out a window and _die?" _

_ "WHY?"_

"I… DON'T… KNOW!" I shouted. "Because my life is hell, that's why!"

"Oh…"

And we just stood there in silence for a while, staring at each other, blinking occasionally. Dib coughed uncomfortably, and I scratched a nagging itch on my right arm. We two are no strangers to odd things happening, but very little had ever happened to us physically... especially something like this. Everything pointed to the obvious: we'd aged a few years overnight, and this was obvious since, clearly, neither of us had any memory of anything after we'd gotten home from our run-in with Tak.

"Well…" we both finally said.

"I'm… gonna go… get dressed," I decided.

"Sure," said Dib, clearing his throat again. "I'll just… um… wait… downstairs, I guess."

"Mmmkay," I said before heading towards my room.

Well, my wardrobe had changed, no doubt about that. I couldn't just pull out a simple dress and throw it on, _nooo._ I didn't even _see_ any dresses in my closet. Nope. Instead, I settled for an okay substitute. I slapped on some deodorant and stripped, then noticed the previously nonexistent full-length mirror fastened to my closet door. I glared at my reflection, then down at the bra I seemed to be wearing, then back.

"At least they're small," I muttered.

After that, I took a moment to take in the rest of me. I looked fairly tall, I guess... well, tall compared to what I was used to, and average compared to how damn tall _Dib_ was. My legs and arms looked really long and thin to me. Even my fingers were long and thin. And, damn it all, I looked like such a _girl._ Thin (I learned I was a size four) in body and face, long eyelashes, pronounced cheekbones, an acorn-shaped facial frame. Okay, fine. Of course I'll look like a girl, I _am_ a girl, but that's where it stops, I told myself. You won't see this one showing off anything.

I lazily pulled on a grey shirt with sleeves reaching my wrists. I scowled at it and ripped—not _cut, _not _rolled, _not_ folded_… _ripped_—the sleeves up to my elbows. Then I put on a smaller, black cover-up shirt over the bust area of the grey one. I then decided on a short—not micro—skirt, and, without bothering with socks or anything, I shoved my feet into some black boots I found on the floor.

I snapped on my necklace and put on a few purple and black bracelets on my right wrist, and a watch absconded by a black wrist band on my left, just for the hell of it. Leaving my hair up and my earrings as they were, I left my room and trudged down the stairs.

I looked around the living room; it looked just a little different. New TV, a new chair… that's about it. _Huh,_ I thought. _When'd Dad have the time to get new furniture?_

Then, I heard my brother give a yelp from outside. He rushed into the house, pale as hell, slamming the door behind him and pressing his back against the door.

"What's wrong with _you?"_ I demanded.

"Gaz," Dib panted, "there's something _horribly_ wrong with the world!"

"Oh, you're just now figuring this out?" I chided, putting my hands on my awkwardly more defined—hips and glaring at Dib.

"No, I mean _really,_"he said, not even bothering to keep me going. "I mean it, Gaz! Look outside! Wait… no, don't. Let's just stay _in_ for the rest of our lives!"

He paused to clear his throat in an attempted to stop his voice from cracking at random intervals. This gave me time to put my two cents in.

"Dib," I said, "what the hell is wrong with you?"

_"A lot!"_ he admitted. "I mean, _look_ at me! What _happened?_ Since when am I an inch shy of six feet tall, huh? Since when has my voice sounded like this? _And since when have I owned a car?"_

Before I could say "A _what?"_ someone interjected.

"Since you turned sixteen, of course."

Dib was flabbergasted. "Since I—huh? What the—_Dad?"_

I spun around. Yep, it was Dad, all right, standing in the kitchen doorway. He didn't look too different… well, aside from the fact that there were several flecks of grey in his normally black hair.

I gulped and inched back a little.

Dib was speechless. He just stood there, backed against the door, teeth clenched, eyes wide in surprise. "What?" he finally managed to shout. "Have I been _asleep_ for five years? When'd I turn sixteen?"

"Son," said Dad, "this is not a very good time for you to be insane."

"But—"

Dad shook his head. "School starts up for you two tomorrow, and you've only two years until you graduate…"

"_GRADUATE?"_

"…so you need to start taking responsibility, and start planning for college…"

_"COLLEGE?"_

"…because this is a very important time in your life, son, and you have no time for insanity."

"This isn't happening!" Dib cried, his hands flying to his head. "Tell me I'm not hearing this!"

Dad turned to me. "Gaz," he sighed, "I often get the feeling that _you_ should be the older sibling. Why, even when you were kids, I—"

"Hold on," I said. "Dad, can't you… uh… don't you know that something's _wrong?"_

"What? Oh, no… the formulas! I knew it all along! Damn those weasels…"

"No, wait! Not that! I—"

Too late. Dad had disappeared into the laboratory downstairs. I slapped a hand to my forehead. "God…" I muttered.

Dib approached me. "_Told_ you there was something wrong," he said.

"Yeah. I thought school started _today."_

"I mean about not just us changing!"

"It's called 'sarcasm,' idiot," I snorted.

"Well..." said Dib, "this isn't very funny. Come on, I've gotta show you a few things."

I rolled my eyes and followed him outside. The sun was a little too bright for my liking (which is to say at all), so I blinked a few times to get my eyes adjusted while making a mental note to cave and buy sunglasses one of these days. Eyes open... there we go... and that was when I realized that my brother was right, and I had to admit it.

Our street had a few more houses on it, and a new road was under construction not far off. There were cars I recognized, and some models I'd never seen before. Worst of all, _nobody_ looked familiar. Nor—and this was far more disturbing—did they seem to think anything was wrong.

"God..." I said.

"I know."

"But..." I began, still staring. "Why hasn't anybody noticed that something is _wrong?"_

"Because," said a voice from above us. "To them, it's normal. Nothing is amiss."

We looked up into the branches of a tree—which had also never been there before—to see, perched among the leaves, a girl of about seventeen, with violet-indigo hair, matching eyes, and a damn-all familiar smirk. She leapt down from the tree and stood before us, back straight, chest (a good two cup sizes on me, I'm guessing) out and well in my brother's view, head high and pointed chin up. Her eyes flashed, and I noticed the beauty mark under her left eye.

_"TAK?"_ Dib gasped.

"Is that the only way you're ever going to greet me, Dib?" asked Tak, grinning.

"But you—you're _tall!" _Almost as tall as he was, actually... I'd say he had about an inch on her, but it's hard to tell, with Dib's hair, and my hazy memory of the early part of this ordeal.

"No shit," said Tak, raising an eyebrow. "Rather ingenious, don't you think? I've modified my hologram to give the illusion that I'm taller than I truly am."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, amazing," Dib said, unimpressed. "What did you _do?"_

"Nothing!" Tak smiled. _"You_ did. You just _had_ to get in the way, and because you did, well, congratulations…_ you warped time."_

_ "WE WHAT?"_ Dib and I shouted simultaneously.

Tak laughed a bit. "And _because_ it was you who did it, only _you_ think you're out of place."

_"Think?"_ I stammered.

"You mean we're—" Dib added.

Tak got right up into Dib's face and smirked. "You just aged five years in the course of one night," she said.

"You mean I'm _actually_ sixteen?" Dib yelped uncomfortably.

"As far as everyone else is concerned, yes."

"Wait," I cut in. "How come _you_ know what happened?"

"For one thing, that machine was _mine,_" Tak said, standing erect and folding her arms. "For another, I'm Irken."

"So?"

"So, whatever happens here does not concern me, nor does it affect me in any way."

"Then… _Zim..?_" Dib wondered aloud.

"Ugh," said Tak, rolling her eyes. "He's too _stupid_ to realize anything's wrong, but go ahead. Ask him for help. Of course, when I'm through with him, he'll be of no use to you."

"What are you going to do?" asked Dib, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, you'll see," Tak purred unreadably. She turned to leave.

"Hold it!" I said. "Can we fix this?"

"In theory, yes," answered Tak as she walked away. "But, your chances of defeating me this time are slim to none."

Dib and I looked at each other, then ran to catch up to Tak. "Give us a straight answer!" Dib ordered.

Tak turned around quickly. "Fine. I've one thing to say to each of you." To me, she said, "You're going to fall first." Then, to Dib, she said, "And _you_ have deserved this for quite some time now." With that, she slapped him, hard, across the cheek.

_"OW!"_ Dib exclaimed, rubbing his cheek. "Why did you—wait… _how_ did you do that? It actually _hurt!"_

"Like I said," Tak grinned, "it's a really good hologram."

She turned on her heel and walked briskly away.

"Well, this _sucks,"_ I observed.

Dib said nothing, but kept a hand on his stinging cheek. After an awkwardly silent moment (a damn _long_ moment), I started walking in the direction of town.

"Gaz!" Dib called after me, finally dropping his hand to his side. "Where are you going?" He took a few quick strides, then walked by my side.

"Arcade or something," I said with a shrug. "As far as I'm concerned, I've got another day of summer, so why not?"

"Are you _insane?_ Gaz, we're not supposed to _be_ here!" Dib sputtered, clearing his throat afterward.

"Yeah, I know. We can fix it later."

"GAZ!"

"Okay, fine!" I gave in, getting irritated. "The morning is mine, you get the afternoon."

"Wait, what?"

"We compromise. Until lunch, we go with what I say, and after lunch, I'll let you drag me along to wherever. Okay?"

Dib looked at me and blinked.

"What?" I demanded.

_"You're…_ suggesting a _compromise?"_ Dib said, a bit confused.

"Well," I covered, "don't get used to it. It just seems necessary… you know, given the circumstances."

The truth: I was scared shitless. All I wanted was to get the _hell_ back home. Of course, there was a part of me that was enjoying it. So, we compromised. That was that. As we began our walk into town, I began to notice more and more changes in our once-familiar excuse for a city.

"Jeez," said Dib, obviously thinking the same thing. "All this in just five years?"

"It's a longer period of time than you think," I pointed out. "I mean… just look at _us."_

"Yeah, true," Dib agreed, clearing his throat. _"Man,_ this is annoying!"

"What?" I asked. "The voice thing?"

"Yeah. But, it's understandable, I guess. I mean, five years in one night." We both cringed. "It stands to reason that my voice would be the _last_ aspect to catch up. I'm sure it'll level off soon enough."

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna stay here _too_ long," I admitted. "Once we figure out what the hell is going on, we can kick Tak's ass and stop... whatever _it_ is."

"Well, I know _one _thing is inevitable," said Dib.

"Oh? What?"

"The ass-kicking part."

I grinned at that. I had to. Truth to tell, I was a lot more tolerant of my brother when we both played a part in some sort of situation, however insignificant my part was.

"Hey, Gaz," Dib said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"What?"

"What do you think she meant by 'you'll fall first,' or whatever?"

"Eh," I said unemotionally, shrugging it off. And then I tripped.

No, wait. I _was _tripped. And, _damn,_ it was a longer fall than I'd expected, and it _almost_ hurt. I looked up to see who it was I was about to kill.

"Huh," I muttered, looking up. "Tak. Figures it's you." I stood up, swaggering a bit, and brushed myself off. I stood at eye level with Tak, and she smirked.

"You're such an easy target," Tak laughed.

My fists clenched out of habit. "Tell me," I said, anger boiling up inside me. "That hologram… is it a _solid_ illusion?"

"Of course."

"Oh, okay."

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. Just making sure it hurts when I do _this,_" I said, raising my fists... and then I punched her square in the face.

_"Ow!"_ Tak screamed, her hands flying to her face. "You _bitch!"_ She scowled and straightened herself... and I struck her again. _"Ow!"_ she screamed again. "Damn you!" Tak cast a disgusted look at me. Her eyes flickered, and she evanesced.

_"God,_ she's annoying!" I spat, shoving my hands to my sides. "I'm gonna _kill_ her!"

"Gaz, are you sure you don't want to do just a _little_ bit of investiga––"

"No! Nice try, Dib, but the morning's mine."

Dib grinned nervously, trying to convince _himself_ that it was just a joke, but he gave in, admitting defeat, and we kept walking.

My watch beeped. 8:00. School was officially in session. I decided to humor myself, and suggested we take the route into town that passes by the school. Dib looked confused, but shrugged, agreeing that, at this point, we really had nothing better to do. But then, just as I thought we wouldn't get anywhere in figuring anything out that day at all_,_ things changed. I'm not saying they got _better,_ I'm saying that they _changed._ That's honestly the onlyway to put it.

At about five past the hour, I heard yelling, and it got louder and louder the closer the yeller (_yeller?_) came.

_"Move it! Move it! Outta my way! I'm late for school! Get outta the way! Move it!"_

As Dib and I rounded a corner, the yelling abruptly stopped, and somebody slammed into my brother. Well, just his leg, really.

"Hey!" Dib said in alarm, looking down. "Watch where you're going!"

"You watch where_ you're_ going you stupid, inconsiderate––"

_"ZIM?"_

Indeed it was. Clad in his usual, yet pitiful, human disguise, Invader Zim stared up (even farther than he would have, since the collision had caused him to land on his ass) at my brother discerningly. "What business have you in addressing me in such a manner, vile _teen-human?"_

Yep. Another classic Zim insult. It's surprising that nobody but Dib caught on to him for using the word 'human' as a derogatory term. Then again, _I_ even tend to do that at times, but still.

In any case, it was obvious that, due to the Time Warp, Dib was unrecognizable to Zim, and he took that to his advantage. Dib raised an eyebrow, then, in one swift motion, snatched the Irken up by the collar and held him at eye level.

"Hey!" Zim shouted in an irritated tone of voice.

Dib snarled and glared at Zim with piercing eyes. Zim struggled, trying to free himself, but Dib kept a firm grip around his adversary's neck. Since he still couldn't recognize my brother, Zim tried to writhe free in any way _not_ involving his PAK. But Dib was much too strong for him, and didn't even flinch or move a single bit. He just kept staring at Zim.

"Look," he said coldly. "You can keep at that all day if you want, but I'm not even gonna _consider_ dropping you until we have a semi-intelligent conversation."

Zim put both hands on Dib's wrist and grit his teeth, trying to force his way out of Dib's surprisingly powerful grip. "Put me _down!" _he demanded.

"Zim, we need to _talk,_ dammit!" Dib spat.

"Shut up!" snapped Zim. "Shut up and let _go_ of me!"

Dib clenched his teeth and tightened his grip.

_"Ow!"_ Zim yelled. "Put me _down_, you stupid––" He cut himself off as he caught my brother's gaze. He stopped struggling and his eyes widened. "What the––_DIB?"_

Dib smirked. It was then that it hit me: he _loved_ being like this. Sure, he wanted to get back to normal as much as I did, but he was really enjoying his new height, strength, and power, if you could call it that.

_"DIB?" _Zim stammered. My brother cracked; I knew he couldn't keep a straight face for long. Once Zim saw the light, Dib began laughing. Annoyed, Zim kept talking. "But, you're... why are you... how did... gah! Put me down!" Dib shook his head, unable to speak, since he was trying to calm his laughing fit.

Zim activated the spider legs in his PAK, but Dib just tightened his grip even more. "Retract those," he ordered, still grinning. Zim scowled, and my brother responded appropriately by not giving a shit and glaring right back. "Do it!"

Zim did as he was told, which has got to be the second most unexpected thing I have ever seen. I can't tell you the first, or I'd spoil the story. Ha, ha.

"If I put you down, are we gonna have a worthwhile conversation?" asked Dib.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

Dib looked skeptical, but then let go, letting Zim fall several feet onto his face on the pavement. It was my turn to laugh. A stunned Zim picked himself up and brushed himself off. I leaned back against the fence behind us, and Dib folded his arms smugly, then cleared his throat. Zim got up on the spider legs so he wouldn't have to strain his neck in order to talk to us.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "Did Tak have something to do with this?"

"How do you know?" I couldn't help asking.

"Tak contacted me last night," said Zim, keeping his cool. "Said you two had just interrupted some important experiment or something."

"Put loosely," I said.

Zim snorted. "Look, just because she's here again and just because you're temporarily taller than I am doesn't mean we'll be helping each other, I'll have you know."

"But you can't argue the fact that she has to be stopped," said Dib.

Zim shuddered. "No," he admitted. "Especially before she can… um…"

"Before she can _what?"_ Dib wanted to know.

"Let's just say that what she did to you can't even _compare_ with what she wants to do to _me."_

"Which is..?"

"I'm not telling you_,_" Zim snarled defiantly. We stared blankly at him, and, after a moment, Zim cringed. "Okay, fine," he gave in. "I'm going back to my base. If you two are willing to put your lives on the line, stop by tonight. Tak's really serious this time. I'll be humiliated, yes, having help from you once again, but not quite as humiliated as I will be if Tak's experiment goes through."

"So we're in this together, I guess," Dib concluded.

"Better than living in hell," Zim said, retracting his spider legs. He cast a look at his PAK and sighed, then turned to leave. "I hate admitting this," he added, "but I'd need your help eventually anyway."

"What are you _talking_ about?" I asked.

"I can't _tell_ you!" Zim snapped. "Just… meet me at my base tonight, okay?"

With that, he ran back in the direction from which he had come.

"Man," said Dib as we resumed our trek. "I've never seen him so paranoid. He must be really nervous."

Compared to that, my day was fairly uneventful. Dib let me blow a few hours at the arcade, but I, surprisingly, got bored of playing video games at about 10:30. Since neither of us was particularly hungry yet, we wasted a couple more hours simply wandering about the mall, trying to pick up on teenage activity and behavior so that we could do our best to pull of _something_ believable at school the next day. Of course, most of it made me want to hurl. Girls with perfect nails and two-hour hairstyles hung off of boys whose disinterest in the activity of shopping went over the girls' heads. Conversations I picked up on ranged from food to sports to politics; most girls worried only about what was 'in,' and what had happened on some show the other night. I only watch a couple of TV shows, and the news. One show I do watch is my dad's. Makes me feel like he's at least a little part of my life.

We left the mall after I caught onto the reason some guys were staring at me. I'm used to people staring at me. I'm the only Goth in the school system, and one of the only girl gamers in town. I get weird looks. Whatever. Now, though, hormones hung in the air like a virus around a bunch of these jerks, and they stared at my butt, or my hair, or my waist, or my butt again. I grabbed Dib the hell out of there after the fifth guy actually made a pass, and considered hissing out, "I'm a lesbian," or something along those lines, but he wasn't even worth lying to. God, I hate people sometimes.

At a little past noon, we sat down to probably the best lunch I think I've ever had, which made up for the shitty morning. Normally, I'm not a big fan of Chinese food, but the new (new being Time Warp new) Chinese restaurant on the fun side of town had exceptionally good lo mein.

After lunch, Dib suggested we find a corner of the library where we could catch up on internet posts of 'current' events, plus to see if we could find out anything new about Tak. Aside from a presidential election and the homicide of an entire cheerleading squad, the news seemed pretty uneventful.

We gave up (got bored, honestly) and went home at about 3:00. Dad was working… of course. Then Dib got the crazy idea that perhaps he should have a go at driving, having found his license in his trench coat pocket earlier that day. So we went outside and I sat on the hood of the car, and I told Dib it was madness. Dib shrugged it off, and said that if he could pilot a Spittle Runner, he could probably drive a car.

I really couldn't argue that, so I got in and put my feet up on the dashboard. Dib, nervous as hell but eager as ever, revved up the car and laughed in spite of himself. I rolled my eyes and rolled down my window as he backed out of the driveway.

"Well," he gulped, "here we go."

"Dib, don't kill us," I pleaded.

He grinned, put the car in drive, and… well… _drove._ It was _amazing!_ Dib was completely relaxed; it was a _flawless_ ride! I felt myself laugh, and I stuck my head out the window like a dog, letting the wind whip through my hair. I can't believe I'm saying this, but my brother proved to be a _great_ driver.

Since we were already in the car, we figured what the hell and took a drive around the city, then, ever so reluctantly, we arrived at Invader Zim's base. The looming teal 'house' with wires protruding from it and into its neighboring apartment buildings. The cul-de-sac in which it was placed was unassuming and eerily suburban. We don't live far away, but our long street feels different. Maybe because there's no alien base on it. The manicured lawn of the base, which was framed with a brown fence, was still littered with grotesquely oversized garden gnomes (in which were implanted cameras and lasers) as always, and the door bore its usual 'Men's Room' sign in place of a number.

Dib put the car into park and turned it off, and we approached the door. Dib hesitated to knock, then frowned and simply put a hand on the knob. Before anything else could happen, the ground beneath us gave way, and we fell several feet underground, through a series of tubes and tunnels, until we finally… uh… _crash-landed_ in Zim's main lab.

"I've been meaning to do that," said Zim, obviously having been amused.

"Yeah, no one would've noticed that, Zim," Dib mocked the alien as he rolled his eyes. "Totally normal."

"My research on trap doors in human culture is flawless!" Zim's more-annoying-than-GIR assistant, a floating purple moose called MiniMoose, squeaked its approval.

We stood and brushed ourselves off. Dib muttered something along the lines of "Why are we here?" before we joined Zim at his computer.

"Well?" said Dib, folding his arms. _"You_ called us out here. _You_ tell us what's going on."

Zim glanced up, then huffily folded his arms. "Sit down," he commanded. "You're too tall."

I was about to comply before Dib refused, "No way. You want our help badly enough, deal with it, Zim." I glowered at him. He was enjoying his height a little too much. I'm sure he will once we actually get to these ages, too.

After an internal struggle and a loud groan, Zim activated his spider legs to talk to us. "All right," he said reluctantly. "Tak told me everything; her whole plan. Or, what _she _called the whole plan. There's obviously more. GIR! Get down from there!"

Zim's sad excuse for an assistant fell from the ceiling and, incidentally, onto my head. "Whoo!" cried GIR from his perch. "I gonna ride you like a moose!"

"Get off me!" I shouted, grabbing him out of my hair. "You have _no_ idea how _wrong_ that sounded!" I added as I let him jump out of my hands.

When GIR and the ever—uh, ever… [adjective] MiniMoose found something better to do, Zim sighed and continued.

"Anyway," he said, "Tak plans on… well… _destroying_ me. Now, you might not care, but without me, you can't get back home."

_"What?"_ I cried.

"Wait," said Dib, "Tak's gonna _kill_ you?"

"I have no clue," Zim confessed. "All she told me was that my life will basically end on Friday."

"God," I said.

"What's today, anyway?"

"Wednesday."

"Damn!" Zim spat. "Listen, the thing is, we've gotta infiltrate Tak's base and fix everything before… whatever happens."

"On Friday, then?" Dib guessed.

"As long as I live through it, yeah," said Zim.

"You're actually scared of her, aren't you?" I chided, casting an evil look at Zim.

"Me? No," he covered, as though the thought was ridiculous. But he wasn't hiding it very well, I knew better. In a strange, microscopic way, I almost felt sorry for him, which scared me, since I hadn't ever felt much of anything but contempt of some sort for someone else.

Truth to tell, I could see a lot of myself in Invader Zim. If I were an Irken girl, I'd probably be just as confident and stubborn as he is. We actually had a frighteningly long list of things we have in common (figuratively, of course… God, I have a _bit_ of a life), which is probably why I felt a little remotely sorry for him… because I'd hate to learn that someone had it in for me, and I'd hate it even more if I had to turn to my enemies for help.

Dib cleared his throat, breaking the silence that followed Zim's comment. I felt myself fall into a brief moment of embarrassment. Zim retracted his spider legs and slapped a hand to his forehead.

"I _knew_ this was a bad idea," he groaned.

"Well, you have a long history of bad ideas," Dib put in.

"Shut up!" Zim spat. "Get out! Get out now!"

"But _you––"_

"OUT!"

So out we went. And out we stayed. I wasn't to return to that area until the following week. Ha, ha. Don't my foreshadowing skills just _amaze_ you? Ugh. I don't know _why_ I'm telling this story. I really don't. I'm not the main character. (It's even worse that my stupid brother talked me into _typing_ this!) Oh, well. I've gone this far. I suppose I should keep writing.

The next morning, while I was taking a shower, I tried to shove the recollection of the previous night out of my mind. But I couldn't help wondering if Zim really _was_ scared, or if he was just planning to use us in order to take Tak out by himself.

I was able to put that notion to rest long enough to concentrate on the matter at hand: school. According to Dad, I was in high school… and if Dib was two years away from graduation, that would make him a junior and me a… uh… oh, right… a sophomore.

Even more troublesome was just _taking_ the stupid shower itself! Whenever I moved my arms in order to lather shampoo into my hair, my elbows would slam into the wall, and at one point, I hit my head on he curtain rod. A stream of obscenities poured out of my mouth, and my usual 10-or-so-minute shower turned into a 45-minute struggle. When I finally got _out_ of the damned shower, I slipped on a bar of soap, and shouted more profanity.

Once dressed, I cast a look into the mirror and took note that my hair looked really bad when I kept it down (of course, it was _wet_ at the time…), so I dried it crudely and stuffed it back into pigtails, grumbling all the while.

I grabbed my backpack from my bedroom floor and tore it open, relieved and surprised to find, crammed inside, the supplies needed to get me through the day. Not even bothering to close it, I swung the bag over my shoulder and walked downstairs.

Dib was just finishing what sounded like a very frantic and annoyed conversation with Dad, via videoscreen. I grabbed a muffin and leaned against the wall, listening intently.

"Dad, you can't keep using that as an excuse!" Dib was shouting. "For the hundredth time, I'm _not crazy!_ When are you gonna figure that out?"

"Son, claiming that the space-time continuum has been tampered with is by no means going to get you through this year."

"But it _has!"_ Dib protested. "And, for God's sake, Dad, when are you going to use my real name? Do you even _know_ what my name _is?_ What, did Mom just name us and leave?"

"Now, that is not a subject to be––"

"Of course it isn't! It never is! I'm sick of this! I'm turning off the screen! This conversation is _over!" _Dib grit his teeth in an irritated manner and turned off the floating screen. _"God!"_ he yelled. "Why doesn't he ever let me _talk?_ It's like a one-sided conversation!"

He finally noticed me standing there and sighed. "Sorry," he said. "All I can say is, the sooner we get back home, the better. I _hate_ being sixteen!"

"And I hate booby-trapped showers," I said. "So we all have our problems."

Dib cast me a "What the _hell_ are you talking about, Gaz?" look, then snatched up his backpack and said, "Come on. We might as well go to school. I'll drive you, if you want."

"Do you even _know_ where the high school _is?"_ I asked as we left the house.

"I've got a pretty good idea," Dib answered. I rolled my eyes and said nothing, and slid into the passenger seat of the car.

Okay, first and foremost: Dib was lying. Or he was just stretching the truth. Well, I don't want to argue that, but in any case, he did not have a 'pretty good idea' as to where the high school was! He had _no_ idea! Neither did I, but that's not the point. The point is, it took us a half hour to find the stinking place. All I can say is, at least we got to the front doors at ten of eight, otherwise we would have been screwed.

The high school was a large, brick building, with absolutely no welcoming qualities at all. The outside was too dreary, the interior looked like a concrete-lined meat market, and the secretary was too perky. She had annoyingly light blonde hair and too broad a smile. I wanted to slap her as she gave me a copy of my schedule and sent me on my way.

The bell (which sounded about as musical as a braying donkey) rang, so Dib and I wished each other good luck and parted ways. I looked at my schedule: five periods a day, alternating every other day. My first class was Art, and conveniently located on the first floor.

My art teacher was undeniably flamboyantly gay. Maybe I could tell by his taste in clothing and his Garland-affected voice, or perhaps I could tell because of the way he was hitting on one of the boys in my class. I don't know. I'm not saying anything bad, I'm just saying he was kind of an acting stereotype. (A note: people who let themselves be stereotyped bug me. I refuse to be a stereotyped Goth. It pisses me off that my dad is a stereotypical mad scientist. We can't all be perfect, but for fuck's sake, try not to be a stereotype.) He welcomed us back to school and introduced himself as Robert, telling us not to bother with "any of that silly 'Mr. Saunders' stuff." He reminded me a lot, for some reason, of my old teacher, Mr. Elliot.

Well, all we did in art class was watch _Un Chien Andalou_ and were given a Dalí assignment (report on one of his paintings). So that was an okay start. Saunders went up in my book after letting me watch a movie where an eye gets slit open.

I looked at my schedule: Physics. Dear Lord! What compelled me to take _physics?_ I made a mental note not to _actually_ sign up for physics when I got to high school. Assuming, of course, that we actually got back.

Anyway, the physics teacher was Mr. Paisley, and he was obviously born without a personality. Sitting through his class was worse than… well, just about classmates found ways to amuse themselves; I just had about 75 minutes of writing "I hate this" over and over in my notebook, occasionally trying it with my right hand to se if I had the potential to be ambidexterous. I didn't.

Paisley gave us some vocabulary worksheet or something for homework, and then the bell rang. Thank God.

Checking my schedule, I noticed that third period was Spanish 2. Great. An already shitty day made shittier by being forced to learn another language.

The Spanish teacher was Mrs. Sigovia, but she made us call her Señora Sigovia. She was very passionate about the language––almost _too_ passionate… she hardly said _anything_ in English. She was instantly worse than Paisley, and more of a stereotype (SHE WAS WEARING A FLAMENCO SKIRT, OKAY?) than Saunders.

No homework, though, which was good.

Then lunch. Thankfully, I was able to find Dib, who said that this was probably the worst day of his life. I couldn't blame him. He gave me a run-down of his teachers, all of whom seemed just about as charming as the rest of the adults I'd run into in this concrete hell. Suddenly, Mr. Elliot's sunshine and sparkles third-grade kiddy purgatory seemed pretty alluring.

Fourth period was Advanced Algebra. I drew a pig. Fifth period was American History. I drew a pig hanging himself.

So, I left the high school that afternoon with art homework, physics homework, math homework, and a pounding headache. I waited at the front of the school for my brother, as far from the line of busses as possible. At 3:05, Dib burst out of the building with a frantic look on his face. "Get away from me!" he shouted, still running.

Nanoseconds later, a brown-haired girl came out of the building and latched herself onto Dib. "Come on, Dib, _pleeease?"_ she begged, grinning and revealing the braces on her teeth.

"No!" Dib choked, trying to pry her arms away from his neck.

The girl loosened her grip and rested her head on Dib's shoulder lovingly. "Please, Dib, let me be your date for the Homecoming dance? Please?"

"For the last time, Gretchen, _no!"_ Dib said forcefully. "And get off me!"

"Awww, why _not?_" Gretchen pouted.

"Because!" said Dib, freeing himself and spinning around to face the annoyance.

"Because _why?"_ Gretchen asked huffily, putting her hands on her hips. "You're not going with _another_ girl, are you? That's unfair!"

Dib slapped a hand to his forehead. "Look, Gretchen, I am _not_ your boyfriend, okay? When are you going to figure that out?"

"But you _could_ be!" said Gretchen, hopefully. "Come on, Dib, please?"

Dib sighed. "I don't think you understand. I––"

"I bet you're gonna ask _Tak_, aren't you?" Gretchen cried. "You're so insensitive! Am I not good enough for you, Dib? Huh?"

"No, Gretchen, it's not that, okay?" Dib said, choosing his words carefully. "It's just that... um... I'm... going out of town that weekend."

"Oh! Well why didn't you say so!" Gretchen hugged Dib enthusiastically, then skipped down the stairs and away from the school.

"For crying out loud," Dib muttered.

"What was _that_ all about?" I asked, snorting.

"Oh, hey, Gaz," said Dib. "God… she's been asking me since fourth period study hall to take her to some stupid dance."

"Like you'd be caught dead at a school dance _anyway_," I put in as we walked to the car. Dib laughed and threw his backpack into the trunk; I did the same, then got in.

"So," said Dib, starting up the car, "how was _your_ day?"

"It sucked," I answered. "I _hate_ high school."

"At least you don't have anyone hounding you and begging you for a date."

"True," I agreed.

There was a brief silence until we got onto the main road. Then, Dib said, "I had a class with Tak today."

A chill went down my spine. "What'd she say?" I asked cautiously.

"Not much," Dib answered. "But she's really pissed at us. She said that if we get in her way again, she'd kill us."

"You think she means it?" I wondered, my voice shaking.

"Well, she sounded pretty serious," said Dib nervously, "but I'm not sure she'd ever actually kill anybody."

"You mean you _hope_ that she'd never actually kill anybody."

"I don't know."

"Hey," I asked, "did she say anything about Zim?"

"Well... I sorta found out," Dib answered solemnly.

"Found out what?"

"What she wants to do to him."

He paused and fished a recorder out of his trench coat pocket. "I kept this with me today in case I _did_ speak to Tak," he explained. "I hope it's coherent…"

Dib handed me the recorder, and I pressed 'play.'

"What are you _talking_ about?" Dib's voice came from the recorder.

"Well you see, Dib," said Tak on the recorder, "when you managed to beat me last time, I realized something. Zim is rather… tolerant toward humans."

"Say what you want; he _hates_ us."

"Say what_ you_ want; he _doesn't."_

"Where are you going with this?"

"If I told you, that would take _all_ the fun out of it."

"A hint, then?"

"Fine." Tak laughed. "I'm going to… how shall I say this? Replace his PAK."

"With another PAK? That's stupid!"

"Oh, no, Dib. With something much… _much_ different."

"Jeez," I said. "Replace that… thing on his back?"

"Yeah," Dib replied. "But I don't know what else Irken body chemistry could possibly withstand."

"You're not making any sense," I told him flatly.

"Yeah, well..." A red sports car screeched in front of us, and Dib slammed on the breaks. "Watch what you're doing, you crazy asshole!" he shouted, immediately cupping a hand over his mouth after doing so. I stared at him wide-eyed. "I did not just say that…" he said slowly, putting his hand back on the wheel. "I didn't mean to say that…"

"Well, it's not like anybody heard you," I offered.

Dib cleared his throat but didn't answer. He just drove in silence until we got home. Once inside, he leaned against the wall and put his head in his hands. "I can't take this anymore," he muttered. "All this talk of SATs and college has made me so temperamental… I can drive perfectly… once my voice levels out, what then? Succumb to an actual teenage mind frame? Forget that I'm not supposed to be here? Damn it! My life sucks!"

_"Your_ life sucks?" I yelled, also getting a little overwhelmed. "What about _mine?_ You're the one who got us _into_ this mess in the first place!"

_"Me?_ You were the one who disarmed Tak!"

"Yeah, and _you're_ the one who messed with her stupid little machine!"

"And _you're_ the one who––"

The phone rang.

"You get it," I said, not taking my eyes off of my brother.

_"You_ get it," he retorted.

"You get it!"

"Why don't _you?"_

"Why not _you?"_

"Shut up and answer the phone!"

_"You_ answer it!"

"You!"

"You!"

"You!"

"You!"

"FINE!" I screamed. I stormed over to the phone and picked up the receiver. "What?" I demanded.

There was insane, high-pitched laughter coming from the other line.

"Who _is_ this? What's your _problem?"_

"SUCKMUNKEY!"

"Stupid robot!" I shouted, recognizing the caller as GIR. "Never call here again!" With that, I slammed the receiver down and announced, "I'm going upstairs."

"Fine."

I turned on my heel and stomped up to my room. I slammed the door closed behind me, grabbed my GS2, and turned on my stereo. I flopped down on my back onto my bed and kicked off my boots, then started up the video game.

Video games are so relaxing. They promote intuitive thinking, not to mention the fact that they can clear your mind of everything else. When playing a video game, time is meaningless. I didn't care about any stupid space-time continuum. As far as I was concerned, it was just me and the game.

I must have fallen asleep soon afterward, for I woke up from a dreamless respite period at about 9:00 PM. I rolled over onto my stomach and looked out the window. The sky was black and clear, and a soft wind whistled through the trees.

I sighed. A beautiful gothic rock song came on the radio. It was slow, with a violin undertone and a choir in the background. The lead voice was female, and she had an incredible, haunting voice that sent chills down my spine.

Unfortunately, I can't remember the entire song, and I'm sure now I'll have to wait a few years to hear it again, which sucks, but I do remember the chorus. It was something along the lines of: "Will you follow me? Close my eyes and sing for me/Follow me/Follow me..."

I laid back, my head on the pillow, and I listened to the song with my eyes closed. It was so beautiful; I never wanted it to end.

My innermost subconscious took the better of me, and I felt myself wishing that I could sing. I'd never thought about that before. What if I had talents that I never knew I had? What if I was being too brash in my outlook on life? _ What if I could sing?_

I suddenly spotted a black guitar in the corner of my room. I set the GameSlave aside and walked over to it, picked it up, and sat, holding it, on my bed. I turned off the stereo when the song ended, and placed my right fingers on the frets, steadying the guitar with my left. I strummed the strings, and a chord escaped from the instrument. I grinned internally and brushed the strings again and again, moving my right fingers nimbly over the frets. The guitar emitted chord after chord, each one complementing the next.

Generally, even though I feel this shouldn't have to be mentioned by now, I'm into goth rock. Batcave, deathrock, industrial, and all the subgenres. Even some of the more modern stuff, you know, Evanescence and Lacuna Coil and all that (cue the music wars on what those guys are... are they metal? I don't know, I don't care, it's music...), but favorites obviously include Scary Bitches, Specimen, the Cure (shut up), Siouxsie, and our own local Goth legend: Melissa "Bloody Nails" DeSena (or just Bloody Nails Melissa). The chords my guitar was emitting sounded more along the Lacuna Coil line, so I went with it.

I laughed a little, silently, then found the chords to my favorite song of theirs: "Ode to a Dying Day." I struck the guitar's strings faster and faster to get up to tempo, then gathered the courage to sing softly to the accompaniment.

"Comes after the rain to please your eyes with all the colors that you cannot see, he came to save us," I sang in a ghost of a voice. "You will see…"

I smiled and let my fingers fly gracefully over the frets and strings, then tried the second chorus. "Standing aside, he's the savior of your only human part; you cannot see he came to save us. You will see…"

With rapidly growing confidence, I sang the choruses again, letting my voice get louder and louder. "Comes after the rain to please your eyes with all the colors that you cannot see, he came to save us. You will see… Standing aside, he's the savior of your only human part; you cannot see he came to save us. You will see…"

I must admit… I was in shock. It didn't matter that my voice was a little raw. I was expecting blandness but was pleasantly surprised with an acceptable mid-soprano (isn't that called mezzo or something..?); of course, I'm still judgmental of my own singing voice, but that isn't the point. The point is, it was at that moment that I realized how much more there was inside of me. I poured every emotion, every last worry, every last thought, everything into the music. I let it personify me, and I the music. I let the guitar move my fingers, not the other way around.

A voice I never knew I had forced itself out of the locked facets of my soul, and broke free, flowing out of me. It wasn't my voice, but one of another side of me that I had ignored for too long. Every year of my life, I'd been living as only a half of who I was. But here, in my room, in touch with myself and my music, I was finally whole.

I'd found myself, my other self, and from that night on, I was never quite the same. I had found a new escape… something that I shared with myself, and myself only.

I sang the song over and over, not wanting to stop. It was one of the greatest nights of my life, and I'll never forget it. I stayed up until midnight, finding new chords, playing song after song, letting my voice fill the room. I pushed everything else out of my mind and just let myself sing. When I finally did get to sleep, I knew only one thing: for the first time in my life, I was really, truly happy.

– – –

Well, Friday's shower was no better than Thursday's, so I won't bore you with the details. I dressed and had another muffin for breakfast, then grabbed my bag and met Dib in the car. "You know where you're going today, right?" I asked, attempting sarcasm.

"Yeah," Dib answered. "Hey, Gaz… I'm sorry for having such a short fuse yesterday."

"Me, too, I guess," I said.

Dib cleared his throat. "Hey," he began, "I heard you last night."

I blushed. "Oh," was all I could say.

"Don't worry… I won't tell anyone," Dib assured me. "But you sing really well, Gaz. Just wanted to tell you that."

And then, I said one of the few words I'd never said before. "Thanks."

That ended our conversation. It was a short one, but weird. Weird because Dib had complimented me on something that did not interest him. My brother doesn't like music. I'm the only one in the family who listens to music at all. It's strange. I have this vague, hazy memory of Dad having a record collection, and even a guitar. Mom definitely had a piano. Dad sold, or maybe just tossed, all of it. After. Mom used to sing Dib and me to sleep when we were really little, and I remember Dib loving music then. She left, and he's hated it ever since. But whatever. It's his choice.

We arrived at the high school at 7:45, and we wished each other good luck again, then parted ways. I walked down the sophomore hallway and opened my locker. There was a note taped to the door. It read: "5:00 PM tonight. _~Tak."_

"Bitch," I muttered. "Why even tell us?" I crumpled up the note, then looked at my schedule. First period was English, so I went up to the room and listened to my mp3 player until the bell rang. Stupid bell… it interrupted Evanescence's "Even In Death."

The kids in my English class were semi-recognizable from Mr. Elliot's class, but there was a new girl, Kiki, who I hated right off. She was obviously a cheerleader, because of the silicone stuffed in her bra and the skirt that covered less of her ass than her thong did. She had straight brown hair and the most annoying voice I've ever heard in my life. Goddamn, I hate sluts! I thought they would be wiped out in five years. The Earth really is doomed.

The English teacher was Mr. Gebbia, and he was more passionate about English than _Señora_ Sigovia was about Spanish. But, he was pretty cool, and started us off with Edgar Allan Poe. Our assignment for Tuesday was to read and analyze one of his stories. I got to read _The Black Cat,_ and Kiki complained that _The Cask of Amontillado_ was "too long," and I told her to shut up. That concluded English class.

Period two was Drama, taught by Ms. Burns. At first, I wondered why the hell I was even in that class, but I soon grew to like it. Ms. Burns enthusiastically announced that she was starting the year off with a Shakespeare unit. Everyone groaned, but quickly became more interested when Burns announced that the play we would be doing was modernized.

I didn't even realize that Tak was in my class until parts were assigned. The play was _The Taming of the Shrew,_ but, as Ms. Burns had said, it had been modernized.

Scripts were handed out, and it was cast immediately. "That way, you can really see just what you can do," Ms. Burns said. "All right," she continued. "Let's see… Brian, you'll play Baptista… Tak, please play Bianca… and, hmmm… how about… Gaz, you get to play Kate…"

"Wait… Ms. Burns," I said, flipping through the script. "Kate is the main character!"

"I know!" she swooned. "And you'll do great!"

"But––"

"Moving on," said Ms. Burns.

I sighed. Oh, well. At least I'd get out of it soon enough. I hoped.

Third period was a study hall, so I read _The Black Cat_, and highlighted my lines in _The Taming of the Shrew. _I realized that Kate was actually going to be pretty fun, because she was bitchy and hated guys. Of course, she had to kiss a few times, but I'd find some way out of that.

Dib wasn't in my lunch period that day, so I sat alone with my script and a soda. That is, until a girl with soft purple hair tamed back by a headband walked up to me. "This seat taken?" she asked.

"Not unless you want it to be," I answered.

"Thanks," said the girl, and she sat down across from me. "I'm Zita, by the way," she added. "I'm a junior."

"Gaz," I said. "Sophomore."

"Hey," Zita asked, "you're not _Dib's_ sister, are you?"

"Yeah," I grumbled. "Why? Afraid of _me_ being insane, too?"

"Not at all!" laughed Zita. "I'm _glad_ there's a hint of sanity in his family."

"Oh, shit," I said sarcastically. "Where?"

Zita laughed again. "Hey, I'm glad I ran into you," she told me. "I had drama yesterday… and my friend Tak says you're gonna play Kate! Way to go!"

I nearly spit out my soda. "You're friends with _Tak?"_

"Sorta. Why? Do you know her?"

"…Sorta."

The bell rang and saved me from that conversation.

Fourth period was Computer Science, and fifth was Phys. Ed. I _hate_ phys. ed. We had to run around the outdoor track (for God knows what reason). Kiki was in my class, so I tripped her. After class, we had to go to the locker rooms and shower. The water was too hot, and I didn't dare stick my hair under it. There were no stalls, so I had to change in front of all the other girls.

"Hey, Gaz!" one of them laughed as I snapped on my bra (which was still uncomfortable). "Are those real?"

"Fuck you," I said angrily, hurriedly throwing on my shirt.

"I didn't know they _made_ A-cups anymore!" another girl chimed in.

I flicked her off, then put on my skirt and boots. I swung my bag over my shoulder and turned to leave.

"Some people just can't take criticism!" the first girl said with a high-pitched laugh.

I spun back around and smacked both of them in the head with my backpack. _"Never_ talk to me_ again!"_ I told them firmly.

And thus ended day two of my high school nightmare. After school, I met Dib at the front of the building again, and we didn't talk until we got into the car.

"I got a note from Tak this morning," I said, breaking the silence.

"So did I. Told me where her base was."

"All she wrote to _me_ was a time: five o'clock."

"That's weird," said Dib. "It's gotta be a trap. Why else would she say anything to us?"

"Eh," I shrugged.

Once we got home, we talked on the subject a little more.

"So should we go?" I wondered.

"I don't know," my brother answered.

"I mean, Zim _did_ say something about 'we can't fix this without him…'"

"He could've been lying."

The phone rang. I rolled my eyes and picked up. "What?" I asked.

"SUCKMUNKEY!"

"I _told_ you not to _call_ here, you stupid robot! If you have something to say, _say it!"_

A pause.

"Huh. I didn't think s––"

"SUCKMUNKEY!"

"Shut up!" I shouted. "I'm gonna wring your neck if you say that stupid word one more ti––"

"SUCK––"

"THAT DOES IT!" I screamed, hanging up. "I am going to _kill_ that robot!"

"Who, GIR?" Dib wondered.

"No, the _other_ robot!" I sneered. "Of course it's GIR! And he's getting on my nerves!"

"How so?"

"Ugh, all he says is––"

"SUCKMUNKEY!" I whirled around, and there was GIR, in his crappy green dog suit. There was also a hole in the door.

"You broke our door!" I shouted.

"I gots somethin' to tell you!" GIR announced.

"But you broke our door!"

"Zim's fight'n Tak!"

"But you broke our door!"

"Tak's gonna kill him!"

"But you _broke_ our––"

"Wait!" Dib interrupted.

"Door!" I yelled, not wanting to leave my sentence unfinished.

Dib walked over to GIR and knelt down in front of him. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Uh-huh!" GIR answered euphorically. "Zim 'n' Tak was fight'n, an' then she won an' she locked him up an' now he gonna die, an' then Tak's gonna make me explode, like this: SPLODE!" He threw his arms up in the air for emphasis. "An' then you is gonna be all stuck an' stuff! Whoo!"

"You broke our goddamn door," I muttered.

"Shut up about the door!" Dib spat.

"Well, he _did._"

"Quiet." Dib turned back to GIR. "Where are they?"

"Uh… hmmm… I think they… um… uh… they're at… uh… mebbie they… hmmm…"

"GAH! Never mind!" cried Dib. "Tak gave me directions. You just… uh… Gaz, take GIR to the car, okay? I'll be out in a minute."

I rolled my eyes and snatched up the robot. I opened the ruined door and climbed into the car, dropping GIR in the back seat. He climbed up the back of my seat and I shoved him back down. He tried again and I shoved him away again. Then, he jumped up onto my head.

I grabbed him and held him out in front of me. "What is _wrong_ with you?" I demanded.

"I like you!" said GIR, making a cute face.

"Get back there!"

I set GIR back into the seat behind me, and Dib came into the car.

"She lives just past Zim's block," he said, revving up the car. "Shouldn't take that long to find her."

"Well," I said, "the sooner we get there, the better."

"Why?"

"It's almost five."

– – –

We arrived at Tak's base at quarter of five. It looked like a normal enough house, but there was Irken writing on the door that, clearly, I was unable to read.

"Well," Dib said, "let's go."

"Why don't we get GIR to break _her_ door, too?" I offered.

I was kidding, of course, but GIR quickly leapt out of his dog suit and went into duty mode. The top of his head opened up and he produced a laser cannon, and blew up the door. He retracted the cannon, went out of duty mode, and flung his arms up in the air and cried, "WHOO!" Dib just stared, and I rolled my eyes, but then we went in.

I heard Tak's unmistakable laughter rising up from the basement, so we descended the stairs. The hallway at the bottom of the stairs led us into Tak's main laboratory. The laboratory was _enormous._ Computers were rigged up everywhere, and there was a wallscreen with controls on the far right wall. At the back of the lab was a huge generator, and nearby was an electric-wire chamber, glowing bright blue. It was slowly decreasing in area, and closing in on the Irken at its center:

Zim.

Zim looked absolutely petrified, and he kept on running into the sides of the chamber, trying to break free. "Let me _out,_ Tak!" he shouted. _"Let me out!"_

Tak narrowed her purple eyes and grinned. "Come, now, Zim," she said darkly. "You know that you can only get out if someone from the outside helps you, and I've no desire to free you myself."

"Damn you!" Zim cried, pounding on the electric wall. The chamber closed in even more. "Okay! Okay! I'm sorry! I'll give you my mission! I don't care! Just don't let me _die_ like this!"

"Too late!" Tak laughed. "I've finally got you trapped… I can finally _win!"_

"We've gotta get him outta there," I whispered.

"Why?" Dib hissed back.

"Cuz I think he was telling the truth!" All of a sudden, a red light flashed.

"What the––" Tak cried. "Intruders?" She whirled around, and her eyes narrowed again. "So," she snarled. "It's you. I knew you couldn't stay away for long. MiMi! Get them!"

A black blur whirled around her, then MiMi, in cat guise, stood at her side.

"Okay," said Dib. "We can do this. GIR, you take care of MiMi." GIR saluted. "I'll hold Tak off long enough for you," he turned to me, "to free Zim. Then, the four of us can fight Tak, and then we can reverse the effects of the Time Warp."

"How can you be so sure of yourself?" I asked. "What if something goes wrong?"

"If Zim dies, we're out of luck anyway," Dib gulped, "so we've got to just hope for the best."

"Okay."

"Hey, Gaz?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful," said Dib.

"You, too," I returned.

Then, we braced ourselves for whatever was about to come.

For some reason, I started to think about the previous night, and how great I felt when I was alone with my music. I prayed that I'd live to feel like that again. I snapped out of my thoughts when MiMi shed her hologram and rushed toward us. GIR went into duty mode and lunged at her, blocking her attack at us. The two robots engaged in battle, and Dib and I slipped past them and closer to Tak.

"Save Zim!" GIR called after us as we approached Tak.

"Get to the chamber!" Dib instructed while we ran.

Before I could make a move, Tak sprang out in front of us, spider legs extended. The electric chamber was closing in on Zim at an even faster rate, and he looked completely frightened.

"I won't allow you to get any closer!" Tak roared at us, curling her fingers into claws. "Though I'd like to see Zim suffer through life once outside the generator's chamber, I'd like even more to watch him suffocate to death _inside_ it!"

"You _were_ planning to kill him!" Dib shouted.

"Of course! You really think I'd tell you the whole truth?"

"Bitch!" Dib yelled, lunging at Tak.

Tak jumped out of the way, but Dib was quickly upon her. Tak activated her hologram for more accurate hand-to-hand combat, grinned, and struck out. My cunning brother stopped her hand and countered, but that otherworldly liar was ready with yet another counterattack. All the while, the chamber was getting smaller and smaller, Zim looking more and more terrified.

"Go!" Dib hollered at me. I made a dash for the generator, but then Tak scratched Dib across the face, knocking his glasses to the floor and leaving three thin bloody scratches over his right eye. Dib winced in pain.

"DIB!" I screamed, wanting so much to wring Tak's neck.

Dib struck Tak across the face and then kicked her to the ground. "Just go!" he shouted. "I'll be fine! I can see well enough… so just _go!"_

I nodded and rushed over to Zim.

"How do I get you out?" I asked him.

"I don't––_no!_ I won't let a _human_ help me!" Zim's look of terror was replaced by one of stubborn condescension. He curled his lip as he glared up at me, arms haughtily folded and feet planted to the cold metal floor. Despite the act, his antennae drooped, which was all the evidence I needed to know that he was still scared out of his mind of getting crushed within Tak's contraption.

The chamber was only about six feet high now, and narrower than before. "Well," I said frantically, "just forget, for a minute, that you hate humans… and grab my hand!"

"No!" Zim spat. "I refuse!"

"Come _on!"_ I snarled at him. We needed that jerk in order to make it back to our proper time and lives, so I was getting him out of there no matter what._ "_It's either this or _death!"_

I held out my left hand––being the strongest––and cautiously put it inside the chamber. Shocks of electricity pierced my wrist, but I didn't let that stop me. Zim grit his teeth, growled loudly, then thrust a hand out. I clasped it firmly. The current flowed harder and harder, but I managed to keep holding on. Slowly but surely, Zim's grip got stronger, and, by the time his wrist broke the barrier, his grip overpoweredmine.

The forcefield gave off a blinding light. I grabbed Zim's wrist with my right hand for extra support; I closed my eyes and grit my teeth, and put all of my strength into pulling Zim out. He finally made it out, and I sprawled back onto my ass. Someone caught me and helped me to my feet. "It's me, don't worry," Dib reassured me.

I looked over at the now-empty chamber, which completely imploded. Then, I turned to look at Dib. He wasn't wearing his glasses and the scratches above his right eye were still a little wet with blood. "You okay?" he asked, pulling a spare pair of glasses out of his trench coat pocket.

"Yeah. You?"

"Fine."

"Where's Tak?"

"She'll be out for a while," Dib answered. "Where's Zim?"

"Oh, he's––" I began. I turned around, expecting to see Zim. I didn't... but there was someone there. I gasped.

"What?" Dib inquired, sliding on his glasses. "What's––oh… who the––?"

There was someone there––a human; he looked about sixteen or so. When I caught sight of him, he was more or less in a heap on the floor, but he cautiously, shakily, began to pull himself up onto his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for breath as though he'd just surfaced from underwater. Struggling to keep his balance, he put a hand to his chest, and kept a firm grip of his dark red shirt as he regulated his breathing. Then he paused suddenly and flattened his hand onto his chest. He held his hand up in front of his face in astonishment and horror, then sat back and held up the other. He turned his hands over and back, then examined his arms, body, and legs. He glared at his hands again and clenched them into fists.

"Oh no…" he said, quietly yet full of fear. "No, no, _no…_ what have you done to me? _What have you DONE to me?"_ he shouted, lifting his head.

A few wisps of unruly black hair fell into his eyes, which turned suddenly from red to brown. He scrambled to his feet, fighting gravity until he could keep his balance. Slowly, he corrected his stance; he found his footing after a moment, then straightened his back, his broad shoulders tensing rigidly as he did. He had been looking down, watching his awkwardly-placed feet, and when he raised his head again, his discomfort was clear. "What have you _done_ to me?" he demanded again, glaring at me in contempt.

His voice was low, strong, and raspy—clearly mid-adolescent, and yet so familiar, so easily harmonized with a tone I had heard mere minutes ago. I read beyond the glare into, dare I say it, a well-featured face that I could not recognize. His dark brown eyes offset his light skin, suggesting a brooding or cleverly-hidden personality. Thin black eyebrows furrowed beneath a jagged, _m-_shaped hairline, which liberally let the young man's midnight bangs fall as they pleased; the rest of his hair spiked back into a seemingly planned, but tousled mess, thick until reaching a point at the back of his neck, just at the base of his head—above his ears, his hair was shorn into a sawtoothed cut, looking ready to grow out into slight sideburns if left alone long enough. His expression was dour, but his face suggested that he had seen worse hells. His cheekbones were high-set and almost too mature for someone of his rough outward age, and his strong chin did not quiver in anger; his mouth was tight-lipped and proportionate. Every bit of his rage came out through his eyes. That virulent expression he wore was too spot-on to be coincidental. I had been wrong––Zim _was_ there… standing right in front of us.

"Oh, my God…" Dib breathed, speaking for both of us. "You _can't_ be…"

"Can't be _what? _Why_ not?"_

"You're a…" I began, "a…"

"…A_ human,_" Dib finished. My brother's voice quivered in disbelief.

"I'm a _WHAT?"_

I gulped, and the person in front of us snarled at me. "I am _not_ a _human!"_ he shouted, walking shakily towards us. "I'm _IRKEN!"_ His voice cracked, the more he tried to yell and scream. Something about the cadence was different: yelling was no longer his forte; doing so threw his tone off. His voice sounded more suited to just speak, to sound natural, and way, way too normal. Well, too normal to be who he must have been. I mean, he still was, wasn't he?

Even though I knew the answer, I felt myself ask, "Who are you?"

"I'm _Zim!"_ he shouted. "And you _did_ something to me, and I want to know _what!"_

"I don't _know!"_ I yelled back. With a few more steps, he had approached me directly. Having obsessively measured myself, I knew that, with my boots on, I stood at approximately 5'8". Imagine my shock, then, in finding myself craning my neck back to catch the now-brown eyes of the once-diminuitive Irken Invader.

He glared down at me, seeming ready to yell again, and then his eyes widened and he stumbled back a few steps. "I'm looking down at you…" he said nervously. "Why am I looking _down_ at you? You were _taller_ than me two days ago!"

"Two days ago, you were Irken," Tak announced from nearby, "but _not anymore!"_

"I _thought_ you said you took _care_ of her!" I hissed at my brother.

Before Dib could say anything, Tak spoke again. _"I_ am now the only Irken on this planet," Tak announced triumphantly, "and therefore you three _humans_ can do nothing to stop me from conquering it!"

"I am _not_ a _human!"_ Zim shouted.

"Oh, yes, you _are!"_

Suddenly, part of the wall to my left became a large mirror. Tak nodded towards it; Zim turned, glared at it, then gasped when he saw his reflection, his expression suddenly changing. For a moment, I could have sworn that time itself froze. (Given our recent track record with 'time,' I would not be surprised.) The time travel had been enough for me to believe, let alone everyone changing along with it. It was just that this—this? REALLY?—was so beyond unbelievable I think we all (minus Tak) had to think long and hard about the whole situation and how it had happened. This was not the time for that, though, and, to compensate for that, time froze for a moment. It froze, leaving me and Dib standing there perplexed, and Zim standing there looking... actually, pretty painfully alone.

His eyes, his brown, human eyes, widened in terror. His mouth, lips only slightly parted, did not move. He stood in an awkward position, almost like someone just getting the hang of skateboarding or surfing, his feet parted and his knees bent, his palms down, fingers splayed, in case he needed to catch himself if he fell, due to his ongoing (yet slowly triumphant) battle with gravity. Then, what must have been fear driving him, he stood up a little straighter, his eyes narrowed, and the flow of time resumed.

_"NO!"_ Zim cried, striding up to the mirror, gazing in abject horror at his reflection. He put his hands up to the mirror and winced. "This _isn't_ my reflection!" he shouted. "That is _not me!"_ He slammed a fist into the mirrored wall and let out a frustrated yowl when his action did nothing to change his unlikely reflection. "I… am _not…_ a _human!"_ he cried. _"DAMMIT!"_

Zim whipped around and began to circle us, staring at us hatefully. I'm pretty sure I just gaped unattractively back, jaw most likely dropped and eyes transfixed on this person that I was still trying to convince myself was that quirky little Irken. "Why did you do this to me, huh?" he demanded. "Why'd you turn me into this… this… _human?"_ Zim began to pace, running his hands through his hair furiously. "Dammit, what would the _Tallest_ say if they saw me now? They'd kill me for _sure!"_ He stamped his foot and flung his hands, clenched into fists, to his sides. "And I'd _let_ them!" he continued angrily. "I'd rather be _dead_ than be _human!"_

He began pacing again. "This is not who I _am!"_ he shouted. "I'm an Irken _Invader_ for crying out loud!"

"No, you're _not!"_ said Tak, jumping into his path, spider legs activated. "You're just another stupid, insignificant, sixteen-year-old _human_ that no Irken could _ever_ give a damn about!"

"I AM _NOT!"_

"Yes, you _ARE!"_ yelled Tak. "Look at yourself! Face it, Zim… you're a _HUMAN!"_

_ "SHUT UP!"_ Zim bellowed, slapping his hands over his ears. "I am not _hearing_ this! This can _not_ be _happening_ to me!"

Zim glared at his hands again in shock, then at Tak. It was in his moment of confusion that I, too, realized what was wrong about that tiny second: Irkens did not have ears; their antennae, from what Dib has burbled to me here and there, function as both their ears and nose. I suddenly felt like I had no place feeling weird about having jumped from ten to fifteen.

"Protest if you want to, Zim, but no one will believe you."

"I'm not a _human!"_

"You want more proof? Read _that!"_

Tak pointed to the wallscreen, which displayed several phrases in Irken. _I_ sure as hell couldn't read it, but Zim… well… I thought wrong. Zim squinted at the wallscreen, then his plain brown eyes widened again and he took a few awkward steps back. "I… I can't read it…" he said in horror. "It's in _Irken!_ Why the _hell_ can't I _read_ it?"

"Only the synthetic eyes of an Irken can make sense of that writing," Tak purred. "Your _human_ eyes are too _weak_ to be able to comprehend it! You also no longer have your PAK, nor the capability to operate Irken machinery! Accept it, Zim! _You're a human!"_

"Shut up! _Shut UP!"_

Fed up with the argument, and the truth, Zim stormed out of the room.

Tak grinned at us. "And now _you_ can't go home."

"Screw you!" I shouted at her. She evanesced.

"Come on," said Dib, his eyes displaying his hunger for more information. "Let's catch up with Zim." Drawn into the situation much further than I had ever counted on being, I nodded my agreement. Tak could wait. We rushed back upstairs, GIR close at our heels.

When we got outside, it was raining. Zim hadn't gone far; only to the edge of the sidewalk, where he stood as if frozen solid, his back to us; he was looking down at his left hand, which he held out in front of him, turning it over and back, watching the rain beat down on it. After a moment, he raised his head and lowered his hand. He squared his shoulders, as if trying to convince himself that he was strong enough to make it through this, and said, placing his hands on his hips, "I suppose you've followed me out here to laugh at me."

I glanced up at my brother, who wasn't crying out, _"Yes!"_ as soon as I'd expected him to. Instead, Dib was chewing his lower lip in thought. He had his arms folded and was drumming the fingers of his left hand against his right arm. "I'm just, honestly, trying to piece this all together," was his eventual answer. Huh. I hadn't expected sense to come out of him. This was truly a time to be surprised all over the place.

"Hmf," Zim snorted, cocking his head down to the side. After a second, he shivered, and pulled his hands away from his hips, awkwardly and quickly curling and uncurling his ten fingers; he examined his arms again, and I almost wished I could see his face as he did. "I'm sure I look like a total idiot," he muttered. "And, ugh, I had no business yelling at you. I know you didn't do this to me. Tak did. She'd planned it all along."

"Huh?" came my brother's trademark response.

"I'm… sorry," Zim forced himself to say, his voice low and trembling. "I just didn't want it to be true. You have _no_ idea how _humiliating_ this is for me, how _awkward_ it is to know that I'm…" He heaved a dejected sigh and turned to face us, lifting his chin up a bit. I had to applaud him, a little, for still trying to look strong in the face of such a change. Given the opportunity, I studied him a little, trying to see a glimpse of the Irken Zim there in the human. Tak had done a great job changing him, I had to credit her that. With the exception of the way he carried himself, the ticks of his head, the angles at which he positioned his mouth, he was utterly unrecognizable. His clothes gave a bit of a hint, as well: his shirt, short-sleeved and slightly too big, mimicked the color of his Irken uniform, and his jeans and beaten sneakers were black, like regulation Irken boots. Still, what he wore just made him look even more normal as a human.

Zim glanced at my brother, and then at me. When he got to me, he lowered his head again, and stared at me for a second; I had to wonder if he was blaming me, since I was the one who had pulled him out. "Look at me," he said sadly. Oops, I already did. Zim shook his head in anger, then looked at my brother again. "You win, Dib. You stopped me from conquering the Earth. A human can't destroy his own planet. I'm stuck here now until the day I die. I'm one of _you_ now. No better or worse than anyone else." He growled in the back of his throat, and his eyes narrowed. "Who am I kidding? I was a sucky Irken… and now, I guess I'm paying for that."

GIR stepped forward and went briefly into duty mode. "My own _robot_ doesn't even recognize me," Zim sighed. "I'm as good as dead."

"Hey," said Dib. "What _happened_ to you? You're not acting like yourself at all."

"Dib, I'm not _Irken_ anymore!" Zim snapped. The rain caused a clump of black hair to fall into his eyes. "I don't _think _like an Irken, I can't _act_ like an Irken. It's all been replaced. Pretty soon, I'll be plagued with a human conscience, and what _then,_ huh? I might as well accept it. I ruined everything for you, and I suppose I'm sorry. And now I can't even be much of a help because I'm…"

"Human?" I offered.

Zim looked hurt. "Yeah," he said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He paused, pondering the action, drew his hand away to study it again, then dropped it and sighed. "Because I'm human."

He turned to go, but then GIR, finally catching on, walked up to him and looked up at his master sadly. Zim knealt down to talk to the little robot. "Go home, GIR," he said.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Go _home,_ GIR!"

"No! I'm gonna stay with _you!"_

"It's just as well," sighed Zim. "My base will probably reject me the second I step foot in the gnome field."

"Maybe you could stay with us for the night," I offered as Zim stood back up.

_"WHAT?"_ Dib shot, giving me a look.

"Just for _tonight,"_ I said. So help me, I felt sorry for the guy. I mean, seriously. In that situation? He was pathetic, and totally helpless.

Dib glared at me, then gave in. "Fine."

"No, really," Zim protested. "It's okay. I'll just––"

"If you _walk_ around town in this, you'll catch pneumonia," I told him forcefully. "Get in the car."

Zim cast me a forlorned look, then reluctantly got in and sprawled out in the back seat, GIR on the floor next to him. I got into the passenger seat, then Dib came in and started up the car.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, steering onto the road.

"It's fine," I assured him. I turned in my seat. "Hey, Zim," I said, "you'll have to sleep on the couch, okay?"

_"Sleep?"_ Zim asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, crap, humans require _sleep,_ don't they? _Man,_ this sucks!"

Once we got home, Dib went down into Dad's lab to grab the materials needed to fix the door. I went into the kitchen and grabbed three sodas out of the refrigerator, set one aside for Dib, and tossed another to Zim, who was leaning on the back of the sofa.

"What's this?" he asked me, staring at the can.

"It's soda."

"Indeed."

He opened the soda and tried it. "Not bad," he remarked. "It's… different."

"From what?"

"Irken… oh, never mind."

Each in our own way, we shrugged the idea off. After a second of hesitation, Zim took another sip, licked a bit of carbonated foam from the corner of his mouth, then took a moment to look around our house. His eyes were hard not to watch—it was kind of funny, really, knowing what he really was in comparison to the way he looked now. Within seconds, he had a more recognizable look on his face as his brown eyes darted studiously from corner to corner of the living room. His mouth squinched up a little, and at one point he bit his lower lip; he was weighing discomfort and relief in regards to the invitation into our (the 'enemy's') home. His study session did not last long; he lost interest, or ignored the whole thing, after about a minute in favor of talking about it instead.

"You invited me into your house," he stated, glaring at me with one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah?" I challenged. "So?"

"So... why?" he wondered. "I could kill you in your sleep."

"But you won't," I said, matter-of-factly.

"Oh, no?"

"Nope," was all I said.

"Hm."

There was no need to point out the fact that he needed us as much as (if not more than) we needed him in order to beat Tak and this whole crazy scheme. Zim snorted in disapproval, and looked ready to fight me on that issue, then gave up, rolled his brown eyes, and took another sip of the soda.

After another minute passed, Zim walked around and sat on the couch; I sat nearby on the recliner. Zim frowned at his bangs, and swept his hands through his hair frustratedly, trying to dry it and get it out of his eyes. After a couple of tries, he succeeded in getting it to fall in a semi-normal manner. It was naturally spiky anyway, but I guess he didn't realize that, since he still looked annoyed.

After a pause, Zim set down his drink and asked me, "Your name is Gaz, right?"

"I thought you knew that."

"Just checking."

"Why?"

He shrugged, then asked, "Gaz… what… what do I look like?"

"What kind of a question is _that?"_

"Well," he said, nervously running a hand through his hair again, "when I saw my reflection, all I saw was… well… a human. I just want to know what I look like to everyone else."

"O_kayyy…"_ I said, giving him an odd look. I studied his features for a second, then said, "Well.… you're pretty tall… normal build, I guess… your skin's about like mine… you've got black hair, brown eyes, and you're kind of…"

I shut my mouth. I hadn't realized it until then, and I'd almost let it slip, but it was true. As a human, I found Zim… well… kinda attractive. I'd never thought that about _anyone_ before, nor did I know what to expect the day I did. Who'd have thought it would be _Zim?_

"I'm kind of what?" Zim asked.

"Um… tall?" I tried.

"I think you already said that."

"Oh. Okay."

"Well… thanks."

"Uh-huh," I said. "Hey, what do I look like to you, anyway?" I wondered. "Just another human?"

"Actually, no," Zim answered. "In fact, I think that y––"

That's when Dib came back upstairs, and our little conversation came to an abrupt end.

"GIR broke our door," I mumbled.

"I _know,_" said Dib.

Okay. Now, before you get the wrong impression… _I have no idea what the hell had come over me!_ To tell you the truth, I hated that stupid Irken. Invader Zim had done nothing but make my life _suck_ for the past year and a half, and Dib wasn't helping. If my asshole of a brother had a different obsession, I thought at the time, I wouldn't have been in that mess.

And, even if Zim _did_ take over the world… so _what?_ _Humans_ sure have done a great job at turning this planet into a goddamn toxic waste dump… let's see if the _Irkens_ could do any better! It would probably be _beneficial_ for a few million humans to be annihilated and have somebody else in charge. But if there was one thing that I hated above everything else… it was being a highschooler with only a decade of life experience. People say "life's a bitch." Bull. Life's a fucked-up mess that bitch-_slaps_ you, and, after that moment, I really wanted to bitch-slap it right back.

That night was absolute _hell._ First off… _hormones!_ Yay! Fuck! Because we now had no way back, life was catching up on me, and––bang!––I had my first brush with... whatever it was that I thought I felt when I was looking at Zim.

Love is a disgusting thing sometimes. I mean, look at what it did to _Mom._ First off, why she ever married Dad is beyond me, and, chances are, she didn't know what she was doing when she had kids_._ Two days after Dib turned four, she just up and left, because love––life's angry cousin––had bitch-slapped her one time too many; that's myguess. I was a generally smart kid, so I picked up on it right away. Even though I was three at the time, I'd made a promise never to letmy life go in the direction that Mom's did. I wouldn't want my daughter to be a miscreant like me, that's for sure. Then again, I had no idea what hormones were when I was three, and I still didn't want to give in to them when I hit ten.

Suffice it to say, I felt like a complete asshole. There I was, still in my bitchy, stubborn mind frame, _blushing_––mark this down… _blushing!_––when I felt a bang of Lord-knows-what in my stomach. Okay, yeah, Zim was attractive, but I didn't think I'd get caught off-guard by that!

The weird thing about it was… he looked pretty embarrassed, too_._ He glanced at me, then cleared his throat nervously and stood. I did basically the same, then tossed Dib his soda. So, we fixed the door and then all sat down at the kitchen table for Gaz's Night In Hell, Part II.

"I want to kill myself," Zim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

"For the record, why?" asked my brother.

Zim sat back and shot him a look. "Look at me," he said flatly, getting louder as he spoke. "Just _look_ at what she_ did_ to me. I can't read Irken, I'm unable to operate my Voot Runner, I don't have any idea what might happen to my base, and I'm in _your_ house, asking _you_ for help. On top of that, Tak turned me into a _human!"_

"Out of curiosity," said Dib, "how _did_ she do that?"

"Deoxyribonucleic acid reconfiguration," Zim answered.

_"Huh?"_ I demanded.

"DNA," Zim explained. "Stupid Tak and her stupid machines. She set that goddamn generator up to read and restructure my DNA. And I _hate her!"_ he shouted as an afterthought, slamming a fist down on the table.

The table cracked upon impact, then crashed to the floor. Zim kept his fist stationary and blinked, then looked down wide-eyed at his hand. "Huh," he said, folding his arms. "Would you look at that?"

"Dib," I said, looking from the debris to my brother. "Wasn't that table made from that weird, indestructible wood that Dad developed a while back?"

"Yeah," Dib answered, despite the fact that the question was rhetorical. "That's… odd…"

We both stared at Zim, who stood and shrugged. "Well," he said, "I guess it wasn't that indestructible, was it?"

He started to walk out of the kitchen, but Dib got up and blocked the doorway. "How did you do that?" he demanded, glaring at Zim. I stood and stepped over the pile of table remains.

"Do _what?"_ Zim shot back, pushing past my brother.

Dib grit his teeth and spun Zim around to face him. _"That!"_ he clarified, pointing into the kitchen.

Zim leaned against the back of the sofa. "I broke a _table_, Dib," he said, starting to sound more like his usual, incompetent self. "I'll make GIR repair it, if you want––"

"That's not the point!" Dib yelled.

I grabbed a shard of the table and brought it into the living room. "This stuff doesn't even _burn!"_ I yelled, holding the wood in Zim's face threateningly. "How the hell did you_ break_ it?"

"Well, how long have you _had_ the damned table?" Zim asked, slapping the wood out of my hand. "It was probably just old. Or maybe I hit a weak spot. Everything has a weak spot, even so-called 'indestructible' things. Even Vortian engineering––"

"I don't _care_ about stupid Vortian engineering!" I shouted. "I'm talking about the table you just broke!"

"For crying out loud, Gaz, it's a _table!"_ Zim spat. "Look, I told you, I'll make GIR fix––"

I slapped a hand to my forehead. "You are so…" I grumbled, "so…"

"What?"

I looked up at him. My heart started racing and a lump caught in my throat. I stamped my foot, suppressing the feeling, and shouted, _"ASININE!"_

"And," Zim smirked, adding fuel to the fire, "you're cute when you're angry."

"Oh, great," said Dib, backing away towards the stairs. "Gaz, just let me––"

"Go away," I ordered, glowering at him.

"Well, have fun fighting," he said, ascending the stairs.

My fingers trembled, and I clenched them into fists. I looked back at Zim. _"What_ did you say about me?" I challenged him, my voice quivering.

"Why? Was it offensive?"

I felt a rising wave of anger wash over me.

"I HATE YOU!" I shouted, aiming to strike.

…But he stopped me. I was too shocked to try again with my right hand. I glanced up at him, my eyes wide in surprise.

Zim glared at me unemotionally, still firmly gripping my wrist. "You humans," he said in a dark tone.

My eyes narrowed. "Last time I checked, you were human,too!" I shot back. "Let me _go!"_

"Is that a request or an order?"

"You don't have any power over me for it _not_ to be an order!" I replied. "You think people should obey you, you think people should be intimidated by you… why the hell do you _possess_ such stupid thoughts?"

Zim loosened his grip a little, and I continued. "You're too ignorant to realize that absolutely _nobody_ listens to you. It's obvious because of your stubborn nature. If you ask me, Zim, you did this to yourself! You were just _begging _to be reprimanded, and look at what's happened to you! So you're human… so what? Who cares?"

_"I DO!"_ he snarled, tightening his grip again. He had an incredibly strong grip… so strong he was nearly crushing the bones in my wrist. With just a little more effort, I realized, he probably could have broken it. My eyes watered, but I held my tongue, not wanting to make my pain too obvious.

"How would you like it if this happened to _you,_ Gaz?" Zim went on. "You and your brother… you _both_ have one-track minds! Look at it from _my_ side! How would you like it if you were stripped of all you knew? I know some of the actions I've taken in the past have been less than admirable, and I've since been punished for most of them, but this is going too far!

"I'm supposed to be _Irken,_ Gaz!" he continued, though not quite as harsh. "That's all I've ever known! For decades greatly outnumbering any human life span, I was Irken! I trained on Devastis and became an Invader! I had a long period of time behind me, and centuries more ahead! In less than an hour, that changed, and now I'll suffer all that human mortality hurls into my path, and eventually die from it. There's nothing left for me to live for, Gaz! I don't know who I am! All you see is, 'Oh, Zim's a human; oh, well, he should accept it.' Well, I _won't_ accept it, because it's not _me!_ I did _nothing_ to deserve this. _Nothing!"_

He suddenly looked very forlorned, and there was unspoken grief in his eyes.

"Look at me, Gaz," he said sadly, looking me straight in the eye. "I don't know how to _be_ human. I don't know how to counter sickness or emotions; I don't know what limits this planet has set for me; I don't know how to live without a PAK! I don't recognize my heartbeat, I don't recognize the pattern of my breath, and I don't even recognize _myself._ I can't be human, Gaz; I don't know _how!_ I don't know my strengths or my weaknesses, I don't know who I can and can't trust…"

He paused, and let go of my wrist, then backed away. "And I don't know what emotion this is that I'm feeling right now…" he finished.

My heart started to beat wildly against my chest, and I gulped, praying that he wasn't about to say that _he_ was attracted to _me,_ too.

"No…" Zim corrected himself. "I know what it is." He turned his back on me and gripped the top of the sofa. "It's _fear."_

_ "You?"_ I laughed. "_You_… are actually _afraid_ of something?" I went around to the other side of the couch and grinned slyly. "Or is it some_one?"_ I inquired. "Are you afraid of Tak?"

"No, that's not it," answered Zim, folding his arms and relaxing over the back of the couch.

"Well, then, _what?"_

"Death," Zim replied in a sepulchral tone. "When Irken PAKs reach their limit, the host has ten minutes to live. Those last ten minutes are spent to perform the PAK's final function. Irkens are guaranteed a predestined reincarnation, and that's when they find out. But what about me? I'm just…"

Zim let out a harsh sigh. "Right now, I'm just another empty shell of a human. What will happen to _me_ when I die?"

"Well," I said, "I'm not religious, but I do believe in an afterlife. Not necessarily heaven or hell, but just… I don't know. Souls have to end up _some_where."

"Then there's nothing for me."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't _have_ a soul," Zim explained dolefully. "Or, at least, I don't _think_ that I do, since I wasn't born human."

"Well…" I said, choosing my words carefully. "My mom was a big fan of banalities; all her stories and stuff were pretty interesting, though. She said, once, a long time ago, that anyone who's ever loved has earned a soul. Clichéd as it is, it's believable, huh? So, even if you _don't_ have a soul, you'll get one eventually."

Zim smiled. It was the first true smile of his, that ever actually had a purpose, that I'd seen. "Thanks, Gaz," he said gratefully.

I grinned a little, then switched on the lamp next to the couch and turned the others off. "It's late," I said. "I'm going to bed. You can watch TV if you want. Sorry you have to sleep on the couch."

"I don't care."

"'Kay."

I started up the stairs, but Zim stopped me. "Um…" he asked, "how do you sleep?"

"You'll figure it out," I laughed.

When I climbed into my bed that night, I wondered if I'd ever earn _my_ soul.

– – –

Saturday's shower was a much appreciated improvement over the last two, even though the water decided to hate me and change temperature at random.

I decided to be lazy and not dry my hair, or wear any jewelry aside from my skull necklace. I even took a walk on the wild side and wore a pleated black and purple skirt and a comfortable, plain black t-shirt. I also found lace-up boots and wore those instead of my regulars.

_Wow_, I thought to myself, _I sure am taking this whole thing in stride, aren't I?_

I also decided, for God knows what reason, that I should allow myself to be a little crazy that day. I started right off by grabbing my guitar and picking out random songs on my way downstairs.

"I've been sleeping a thousand years, it seems," I sang as I walked into the kitchen. "Got to open my eyes to everything!"

"Is the apocalypse upon us or something?" Dib asked.

"Nah," I replied, sitting on the counter, still plucking the strings. "Trust me; if it was, I'd be cheering it on. Where's Zim?"

"Oh, he discovered another daily human ritual," said Dib, motioning towards the bathroom.

I laughed and set my guitar aside, then walked over to the fridge. Still feeling abnormally out of my mind, I grabbed a watermelon slice and found that it was the best damn breakfast I've ever had.

I heard water running, and Zim walked into the living room. I grabbed my guitar and sat down on the recliner, munching on my watermelon slice.

"That was... odd," Zim remarked. "But I'm glad I didn't have to worry about burning up at the sink."

"A-_ha!"_ I said, still working on a bite of watermelon. "An advantage!"

"Quiet."

"So," Dib cut in, rapidly changing the subject, "what do we do about Tak?"

"We're stuck here, moron," I retorted. I took aim and spat a watermelon seed out, hitting my brother square in the forehead. "What difference does it make?"

"First of all, 'ow,' and secondly, we still kinda have to stop her from taking over the world."

"Eh," I said, spitting another watermelon seed at him.

"Quit that!" he demanded.

GIR walked in from the kitchen, also carrying a watermelon slice. He sat down on the coffee table and ate the watermelon noisily.

_"Any_way," said Dib, "could we _please_ get back to––"

I spat another watermelon seed at him.

"Would you quit that?" Dib shot, taking a step towards me. He slipped on the three watermelon seeds, then, arms flailing wildly, he fell on his face. I laughed, GIR found it _very_ amusing, and Zim applauded and commented on my brother's amazing coordination skills.

"Oh, shut up," Dib muttered.

GIR ate his watermelon rind, then went back into the kitchen.

Dib just sat up where he was, and Zim sprawled out on the sofa. "You were saying?" he asked.

"I was _saying,"_ Dib answered, casting me a look, "that we really should do something about Tak and her––"

"!"

GIR streaked past us, carrying the rest of the watermelon. He crashed through the door––again!––and just kept squealing like a pig on speed.

"That little…" Zim growled, getting up.

The three of us followed the ecstatic robot outside. GIR put the watermelon on his head and started dancing exuberantly.

Zim slapped a hand to his forehead. "GIR!" he called, very dictorally. "Get back inside! You'll call attention to yourself!"

"And _when_ has that stopped him _before?"_ Dib asked rhetorically.

GIR ate the watermelon off––don't ask me _how_––and just kept on dancing.

"Checka _dis!"_ he cried happily, stopping his dance.

GIR opened up the compartment in his head, and watermelon seeds shot out everywhere, sticking to people, tripping people, clogging up a dog's ass (that was actually very disturbingly funny…). All the while, GIR was giggling/screaming ceaselessly.

"Get in the house _now,_ you stupid robot!" I shouted. GIR just kept dancing.

Then, Zim walked passively to the door, opened it and said, "Tacos."

The dancing ceased, and GIR ran into the house.

_"Mommyyy!" _a little kid cried as I went back into the house. "I gots seeds in my eye!"

"Somebody unclog my poodle!" a lady screeched.

"I have seeds in my ass!"

"Why, Lord, whyyy?"

"These aren't _raisins!"_

I slammed the door behind me. Zim grabbed GIR and held him in front of his face. "What is _wrong_ with you?" he yelled.

GIR giggled.

"What?"

"Watermelon."

Zim frowned and dropped GIR unemotionally, then turned to us. "Now what?" he asked.

"Well," said Dib, collapsing onto the couch, "there's Tak…"

"TAK!" I cried, throwing my arms up. "Tak, Tak, _Tak!_ All you _talk_ about is _Tak!_ If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were going _out_ or something!"

"Oh, come _on!"_

I went into the kitchen and grabbed my guitar, then came back playing a lick from "Bela Lugosi's Dead." With a statement-making strum, I flopped down into the recliner.

"Is that all you can _do_ at a time like this?" Dib accused me. "Play your guitar?"

I started a new song. "But _ooohhh, oh,_ your city lies in dust," I sang, "my friend..."

"Gaz…" Dib warned.

"Rapture in the rupturing of all that I don't need—"

"GAZ…"

"I just wanna see you bleed… I know what I––"

"GAZ!"

_"What?"_ I gave in, stopping abruptly.

"Could we _please_ focus on the matter at hand?" Dib pleaded through clenched teeth.

"Ugh," I said, putting my guitar aside. "I bet I'm the _only _girl in the world who has a to-do list involving saving this stupid planet from getting blown up or whatever."

"Indeed," Dib commented.

"So, what now?" asked Zim, sitting in the chair adjacent to me, restraining GIR.

"Where's my tacos?"

"Shut up."

"Did Tak say anything to you before..?" Dib asked Zim.

"Uh… hmmm…"

Zim went deep into thought for a moment, then answered, "Well, she _did_ say something about a transmission to the Tallest…"

_"And..?"_ I pried.

"I don't know."

I fell forward out of the chair. "You don't _know?"_ I repeated, getting up.

"I was too paranoid to listen to anything she was saying!" Zim covered.

"You don't have the _patience_ to listen to what anyone says," Dib remarked under his breath.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Zim asked jokingly.

"Funny," said Dib. "So, you didn't hear anything?"

"Nope."

"How are we supposed to beat her if we don't have the upper hand?"

"Are we even sure she _is _planning anything else?" I wondered out loud.

"Why are you even _asking_ that?" Zim reprimanded me. "Of _course_ she's planning something! She got _me_ out of the way… nothing is gonna stop her now."

"On the contrary," I corrected, _"we_ can stop her."

"Yeah," Dib agreed. "We did it before; we can do it again."

Zim's eyes narrowed and he looked away. "Speak for yourself," he said, standing up, still clutching GIR. "I'm not going to help you."

"WHAT?" Dib and I cried simultaneously, both jumping to our feet.

"Last time, I only helped you for two reasons!" Zim yelling, spinning around to glare at us. "One: you had that disc, and two: I needed to get my mission back."

"So?" I pressed.

_"So,_ there's nothing for me to fight for now!" Zim shouted violently. "I don't care what she does! I might be human, but I _don't_ belong here… so I just don't care! Good luck, thanks for you hospitality, however reluctant, and see you in school!"

With that, he turned and stormed out the door.

"He'll be back," I said, grabbing my guitar and flopping onto the couch. "Trust me."

"How can you be so sure?" Dib inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"He's just gotta figure a few things out," I replied, plucking the strings of the guitar a bit. "I know he'll be back."

"If you say so," shrugged Dib. "I'm gonna go downstairs and try to hack into Tak's main base computer."

"Okay. I think I'll walk downtown," I decided. "I'll be back in a few hours, maybe."

"Sure."

"Mmmhmmm," I said. I went upstairs, put my hair up, grabbed a small backpack into which I stuffed some cash, my portable CD player, and my GS2.

I left through the re-broken door and began my walk into town. It was a nice day, I guess, but I had so much on my mind that I didn't really notice. I was in no hurry, but I walked briskly for some reason… it just felt natural, I guess.

Once in town, I went into my favorite electronics store. I picked up an Android Lust CD and then found an interesting-looking new video game called "Warped." It was a 1-player vs. computer RPG as well as 2-player combat. Needless to say, I bought it.

Then onto the bookstore. The local bookstore, Dragon Books, has an eclectic assortment of books and magazines, and one of the only places in town that plays good music. I don't know exactly why, but I bought a book of Sylvia Plath poetry. I stayed in Dragon Books for a while, flipping through video game preview magazines and Edward Gorey books. When I did leave, I didn't exactly feel like going to the arcade yet (which was odd for me), so I went into a small coffee shop to have a snack and just think for a while.

It was pleasantly not very crowded inside. I bought a cup of familiar-scented tea and some random, sugar-fortified edible thing. The atmosphere in the place was pretty nice: there were armchairs and love seats in one area, and a shelf stacked with literary and art magazines and such. I sat down on one of the love seats, leaning against one of the arms with my feet tucked up underneath me. There was decent enough music playing, so I just pulled out my new book and started reading, occasionally having some tea or a bite of that sweet thing.

After a few minutes, I heard a familiar voice coming from a table to my left.

"Now look what you've gotten yourself into."

I turned my head slightly, then gasped. Tak. Tak _and Zim…_ what were they doing there together?

"Come on, Tak," Zim said pleadingly, "I'll do anything."

"Anything, hmmm?"

I had to do something. I couldn't stop myself. I got up and strode over to the table and put my hands on my hips. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded. Tak snorted huffily, and Zim glanced nervously up at me. I felt like I had an advantage, because I was standing. I have no clue why.

"This is none of your concern, Gaz," snarled Tak.

"Oh, none of my concern, huh?" I retorted. "And it was _your_ concern to get involved in our lives? Explain _that_ to me."

She couldn't. All she said was "Hmf."

"Huh," I said. "Thought so. Now get out of here. What business has an Irken with a human?"

"What business has a _human_ with an _Irken?"_ Tak shot back at me, standing up and staring me down. "You're in my _way,_ Gaz."

"So, take a detour," I scowled.

"Brave words," Tak remarked, all too sweetly.

"Leave Zim _alone," _I ordered, holding my ground.

"Doesn't it _bother_ you that you're stuck here?" asked Tak.

"Oh, we'll find a way back," I assured her. "There's _always_ a loophole."

"We'll see," said Tak. That having been said, she left the building.

I turned to face Zim. "What did you think you were _doing?"_ I wanted to know.

"Trying to strike a deal with Tak to reverse what she _did_ to me!" Zim answered angrily, standing up. "Why did you stop me?"

"Why were you asking _her_ for help?" "Because…" he started, then gave up. "I'm getting desperate, okay?"

"Yeah, but… _that_ desperate?" "Jeez, Gaz, calm down! What is _wrong_ with you?"

He started to walk out, so I grabbed my stuff and followed him.

"What's wrong with _me?"_ I repeated harshly, once I'd caught up with him outside. "What's wrong with _you?_ Look, Zim, I understand that you're eager to reverse this, but you have to weigh your options first! You can't just make spur-of-the-moment decisions like that! If that's how you think––"

"Shut up!" Zim snapped. "You sound just like Miyuki!"

"Who?"

"Ugh… never mind. Why are you following me?"

"I'm not going to _stop_ following you until I can knock some sense into your thick head!"

"Oh, come _on,"_ Zim grumbled. At a street corner, he stopped abruptly and turned around. I almost tripped. "Listen to me," he warned. "I don't know _what_ you're trying to accomplish, but _stop it!_ I can run my own life!"

"But the universe doesn't revolve around you!" I shouted.

"Well, it doesn't revolve around _you, _either!"

"I hate you!"

"Good! I hate you, too! Now quit following me!"

"What will you do to me if I don't?" I challenged.

"Just leave me alone!"

There was an awkward silence, but then I regained composure and spoke. "Zim…" I began, "I'll make you a deal. If you help us get rid of Tak and reset Earth to its proper time sphere, I _promise_ that we'll find some way for you to become Irken again."

He raised an eyebrow contemplatively. "Really?"

"Really," I assured him.

"Alright," he sighed. "Sorry for being so sophomoric. Am I still welcome at your place?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"Well, then, let me go find GIR, and I'll see you later."

"'Kay."

"Hey, Gaz," said Zim, catching me off guard after I'd turned to go.

"Yeah?" I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

Zim flushed red, and he looked down, scuffing his foot on the gravel. "Um…" he said, stumbling over his words. "W… Wear your hair down, would you? I… um… it looks nicer like that."

"You think?" I asked quizzically.

"Well, I'm… just stating my opinion," he tried to cover, glancing up at me again. "N-not that my opinion matters, but…"

Silently, I reached up and pulled the elastics out of my hair. Zim's face went even redder. Now this was interesting, and a little strange. I'm pretty sure each of us felt as awkward as the other in that moment. Obviously, I'd had a little slip up when he'd asked me to describe him, and he'd reciprocated almost immediately, but... oh, shit, was he actually—no, no, he couldn't have been—_flirting_ with me? No way. He didn't understand that. Or did he? But Irkens don't have affection. They're a society of clones. Then again... how human _was_ he right now..? And, more disturbingly, why did a piece of me enjoy it?

"Th-that looks great," he said quickly.

"Thanks," I said. "See you later, then."

"I… guess… so."

– – –

"Hey, wait, I've got a new complaint; forever in debt to your priceless advice. Hey, wait, I got a new complaint; forever in debt to your priceless advice…"

I started in on the second verse of "Heart-Shaped Box," and Dib listened attentively, which, for some reason, made me feel a little more confident. "Man-eating orchids forgive no one just yet," I sang. "Cut myself on angel hair and baby's breath…"

Just then, the door burst open, and who strode in but Zim, a highly-caffeinated soda in hand.

"I LOVE CAFFEINE!" he announced, holding the can of soda high above his head.

GIR came in screeching and darted into the kitchen. A loud crash followed. Zim slammed the door and walked over to us, then threw himself into the recliner. "This," he said, indicating the drink, "is the best stuff _ever!"_

"Let me see that," Dib asserted, walking over to Zim. "Is this caffeine or alcohol?" He snatched it out of Zim's hands and read the list of ingredients.

"Hey!" cried Zim. "What's wrong with you? I was drinking that! I've only had three of 'em so far! Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie!"

_"Three?"_ Dib repeated, flabbergasted. "This is an energy drink! You only need one!"

"Yeah, well," Zim said, taking it back from my brother. "I like 'em cuz they keep me going."

"Addict," I snorted.

"Proud _of_ it."

He finished the can, then crumpled it up into a ball in one hand––with hardly any effort at all. "Well," he said, passing the aluminum ball back and forth in his hands. "What now?"

Dib blinked, and I just sort of stared.

Zim lay back, his feet on the head of the recliner, and started to throw the ball up towards the ceiling, playing a one-sided game of 'catch.'

"Well?" he tried again.

I walked over to him and flipped the back of the recliner down so that he was almost at face level. The aluminum ball came down and hit him on the head.

"Are you just not _noticing_ what you're doing?" I asked.

Zim stuck his tongue out at me and flipped the chair back, then thrust his legs over his head and sprung off the chair, landing on his feet, all in one swift motion. GIR came in, jumped onto my head, and applauded.

"Noticing what?" Zim wondered.

GIR was playing with some splinters of the table damaged the night before. I took one from him. "My table!" GIR whimpered, grabbing for it.

"Don't worry," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm just gonna… um… use it for a game."

GIR approved by making some sort of squeaking noise. Zim stared at me, and I aimed, then threw the piece of wood a little to his left. Zim reached out and grabbed it, not taking his eyes off of me.

"Noticing _what?"_ he asked again.

"That!" I replied, pointing.

"Are you still mad about the table?" he guessed.

"Hang the goddamn table, Zim!" I cried, on the verge of impatience. "I'm talking about _you!"_

_ "Me?"_

"Yes, you!" I repeated. "Your strength, your agility, your reflexes!"

"What about them?" Zim inquired, tossing the table shard back and forth in his hands.

"They're…" I started, hunting for the right word.

"Inhuman," Dib offered, leaning over the back of the couch.

"Yeah, right," Zim said skeptically, casting my brother an odd look. "Why and _how_ could I be any more or less capable of shit like that than anyone else?"

Suddenly, Dib grinned. "A flaw," he said.

"Huh?"

"A flaw in the system!" Dib repeated triumphantly. "Tak modified her machines from prototypes, right? Well, then, there must be some kind of imperfection… or a glitch in the design!"

"Where are you going with this?" asked Zim, raising an eyebrow.

"Come down to the lab," said Dib. "I've got to show you guys something."

He ran down into the lab eagerly, and Zim and I followed. GIR was still on my head, but I didn't care. When Dib was on to something, he was really _on _to something, and I prayed that this new something might help us get home.

Dib booted up Dad's main computer, and punched in some coordinates on the analog pad.

"I was able to hack into Tak's database, and decipher some of the Irken codes," he explained. A grid appeared on the screen. "There's about 7 gigabytes of information stored in this grid," he continued, "but the data is locked. However," and here he pressed a function key, "I _am_ able to get this far."

A pop-up appeared, with Irken lettering. It soon refreshed itself and the Irken was replaced with binary, then English. It read: "Scan from outside source required. Begin scan?"

Dib turned around and smirked, the light reflecting off his glasses. "Zim," he said, "I think _you're_ the outside source."

"What?" Zim shot, taken aback. "Why me?"

"Because I'm almost entirely sure that this has information about you."

Zim gulped and stepped up to the screen. His eyes narrowed. "Where's the scanner?"

Dib indicated to a small, flat portion of the analog pad, glowing blue. Zim gulped and hesitated, then slapped his right hand down upon it. The scanner got brighter and the pop-up disappeared, and the grid warped to show various new files. Zim retracted his hand and stepped back, and we all gazed at the screen in astonishment. GIR fell off my head.

"I knew it," Dib said. He converted the files into binary, then English, and then opened the file dated the previous night.

"Subject at hand: Zim," the file read. "Race: Irken. Status: Invader. Method Selected: Restructuring; I.D. to be erased, replacement confirmed."

I was about to ask what the hell it meant, but then the screen changed again.

"Process starting at 1600 hours, Earth Standard Time. Analysis… complete. Scan… complete. Reconfiguration in progress."

Then, it showed a statistics table.

"Subject at hand: Zim. Race: Human. Age: 16 years. Height: 6'0". Weight: 125 lbs. Hair color: Black. Eye color: Brown. Skin type: Caucasian…

"Skeletal structure: Replaced. Dependancy: Replaced. PAK Removal: Incomplete. System error. Progress 87%. Continue? …Denied."

Zim rushed up to the screen, looked from it to his hands, then whirled around and addressed us. "This means I'm still 13% Irken?" he cried ecstatically. "It says I still have my PAK! This is great!"

"Yeah," said Dib, "but, where _is_ it?"

Zim turned to look at the screen again. I tentatively crept over and lifted the back of Zim's shirt. "Hey!" I announced, my eyes widening. "There's a scar here!"

"GAH!" Zim cried. "What are you doing? Don't touch me! Get away, get away, get away!"

I backed off and Zim pulled his shirt down, his face burning red as he shouted at me, "What the hell were you _doing?"_

"Checking to see if there was any sign of your PAK," I replied, stifling my laughter, "and there is. You've got a weird scar between your shoulder blades."

Zim's eyes widened, and he rushed back upstairs. Dib and I quickly followed, not bothering to turn the computer off. Zim darted into the bathroom and snapped the light on, then turned around, lifted his shirt and strained his neck around to try to spot the scar. "Oh, my God!" he gasped.

The scar began a little above Zim's shoulder blades, then ran down his spine in a sharp zigzag of a line. Another scar crossed it, extending shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

Zim pulled his shirt down and faced us, turning a little red again when he saw that I was there. "That's exactly where my PAK is supposed to be!" he said, overjoyed.

GIR suddenly leapt up onto my head––again!––with Dib's X-Scope on. "You gots it _in_ you!" he exclaimed, pointing at Zim.

_"HUH?"_ Zim asked, putting his hands to his stomach. "My PAK is _inside _me?"

"Let me see that!" Dib said, getting the X-Scope from GIR. "Oh, my GOD! He's right!" Dib tossed the X-Scope aside and walked into the living room, deep in thought.

Zim looked like he was going to be sick. "In_side_ me?" he repeated.

The doorbell rang. I took GIR off of my head. "Hold this," I instructed, handing the robot to Zim. I walked over and opened the door. Not recognizing the person, I labeled them as unimportant, flicked the person off, slammed the door in that person's face, and locked the door. I decided that was the biggest waste of time in my life. I then turned and walked back into the living room to join the others.

"This is _great!" _Zim said, stretching out on the couch. "I'm still 13% Irken!"

"And I'm 74% confused," I admitted, grabbing my guitar and flopping down on the armchair. "Does that mean that your physical strength is derived from and making up for the functions of that weird backpack of yours?"

"Precisely," Zim replied. "I think."

"That's pretty hard to believe," Dib confessed, giving it some thought, "but I guess it's logical. It seems reasonable enough from a scientific view, I guess…"

"Huh," said Zim, grinning. "That's odd…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

Dib made a face, then shrugged. "Well," he announced. "I'm gonna go back down to the lab for a while… see if I can find out anything more."

"Want me to order a pizza or something?" I suggested, picking up the portable phone lying conveniently next to me.

"Sounds good," Dib answered. "Call me up when it comes, would you?"

"Sure."

"I'll let you know if I find anything," he added before disappearing back down into the lab.

I called up Bloaty's Pizza Hog and placed an order for delivery.

"Isn't pizza that disgusting, greasy, circular thing?" Zim asked when I hung up.

"I guess you could put it that way," I said, laughing a bit, "but _I_ think it tastes great."

"Indeed."

"By the way," I began after an uncomfortable pause, "what _were_ you going to say after you said 'That's odd'?"

"Oh, that," said Zim. "Well…" He looked away. "It's just odd how much you remind me of _her…"_

"Who?" I asked. "That… Miyuki girl you made reference to earlier?"

"Not girl," he corrected me, _"Tallest._ She was… incredible. Tactful yet sincere; she was a great leader. I guess I've just had her on my mind lately… sorry. I'm living in the past. She died a _long_ time ago. I'm sure I'm not even remembering her all that well."

"Oh," was all I could say. Then, I smirked. "So is _that_ why you get all red when you talk to me?" I questioned slyly, just trying to make him nervous.

It worked.

Zim went as red as his shirt. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.

"Oh, come _on,"_ I said. "You know you get nervous whenever we have conversations together lately. Is it because I remind you of an Irken?"

"Um…"

Zim sat up on the couch. Just to see what would happen, I went over and sat on the other end. "Come on," I pried. "Come clean!"

"Well, uh…" Zim stuttered, tripping over his words again. "I… I guess it's because you kinda have some Irken qualities, but… um… well, I just… feel comfortable talking to you, I… I guess… I don't know…"

"Um…" I said, also at a sudden loss of words. "Why… uh… why did you ask me to let my hair down?"

I felt _really_ stupid at that point. Why the _hell_ did I say that? Damn you, mouth!

Zim turned to look at me and cleared his throat nervously. "Because," he replied, searching for the right answer, I could tell, "I…"

It was then that I noticed we were sitting a lot closer to each other than I had thought. My heart started beating wildly against my chest, and our eyes locked. For the first time, I really studied his. There was a glint to them, something I had never noticed in any pair of human eyes before. I wondered for a second if maybe he had the same hypnotic ability that Tak did, and that that was the thing affecting me. My conscience said no. Because I wasn't interested in the glint. I was fixated on the color. That dark, dark brown that reminded me of autumn. Something about those eyes shut me up and made me focus on someone else for once.

Zim gulped uneasily. "I think you're…" he continued, quietly and unsteadily. Shakily, he ran his hands through my hair… and I let him. It felt... nice. It was strange. I usually don't like it when people touch me, let alone come near me. I shouldn't even have to mention that physical affection, like hugs or even a reassuring hand on the shoulder, was never something big in my family, so I wasn't used to it. But this was welcome. He moved cautiously, and the way his fingers twined their way through my hair felt more relaxing than anything. "…Beautiful," he finished.

I was conscious of yet unprepared for what came next. Or, what was _supposed_ to come next. Just at that moment, the doorbell rang, saving us both. Zim and I pried ourselves away from each other, both equally as nervous and embarrassed as the other.

I bit my lip, then walked over and answered the door. "Dib!" I shouted. "Get up here!"

I took the pizza box from the guy at the door and paid him to make sure he'd go away. I locked the door again and brought the pizza into the living room and set it on the coffee table. As I did so, I tried to catch Zim's eyes again. He did not look back. He was looking down, brows furrowed in puzzlement, mouth tight-lipped but quivering ever so slightly. Whatever we had just shared was over, and it would take him quite some time to sort it out, I was sure. Plus, we both knew that it was a bad idea to bring it up as a topic of discussion the second my brother surfaced from Dad's lab.

Dib, unsuspecting that anything at all had happened between me and Zim (which was really, really good), grabbed some sodas from the fridge and brought them in. GIR was quickly upon the pizza, but Zim was able to restrain him so that the rest of us could eat. I was almost as bad as GIR, honestly, since this was my first 'substantial' meal in three days.

Zim picked up a slice and just sort of glared at it. "This looks disgusting," he remarked.

I swallowed my own bite of grease and condiments and said, "You can't judge everything by its looks."

Zim made a face, then cautiously bit off a piece. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed.

"Well?"

"…Delicious…" said Zim, glaring at the pizza. "Somehow, this crap tastes _incredible!"_

"That's American fast food for you," Dib said, idiosyncratically clearing his throat.

"Does _all_ human food taste this good?" Zim wanted to know, finishing the slice and grabbing another.

"Depends," I answered, my mouth full of crust. I swallowed in a very unladylike way. "Does cafeteria stuff count as _human_ food?"

"Does it count as food at _all?" _Dib countered. I laughed, covering my mouth so I wouldn't spit crumbs as I did.

"Hey, Gaz," Zim said after a brief pause.

"Mmm?" I replied, gulping down some soda.

"Can you play a song on that guitar thing?"

I choked and snorted, and soda almost came out my nose. I coughed and set the can down. "What?" I blurted, trying to stop the carbonation from rising.

"Yeah," Dib urged, grinning at me. "Play us a song."

"Oh, not you, too," I moaned.

"Come on," said Zim, not showing any sign of dropping the subject.

"Fine," I gave in, grabbing my guitar and sitting up against the armchair. "But then we have a video game tournament so that _I_ can humiliate _you."_

The others agreed––even GIR, surprisingly. So, I had no choice but to assume the role of entertainer. I fiddled around with the frets, then started pounding out a song.

"And it doesn't matter how you feel now, anything at all," I sang; "seems to be your only way, so vicious, heavenly apart. When your envy's on a piece of paper, let me sweetly smile; you're devouring all the crumbs I'm leaving caught up in your lies. You're on any other side… Clawing at my eyes, I'm feeling your arms around me, on the other side. It's time to go, I'm hearing your voice without words on the other side."

So I filled up the next two minutes or so with that acoustic rendition of "Unspoken." Once I was finished, I grabbed my bag and pulled out my new video game. I grinned. "Now we're gonna have some _fun," _I said in a jokingly menacing voice. I set up the system and put "Warped" in. Grabbing the first player controller, I selected battle mode, then set the second player controller on the coffee table. "Who's first?" I challenged, smirking.

The game had an interesting selection of characters to play as. A few were locked, as usual, but I'd unlock them soon enough. Each character had basic physical attacks, one special move, three locked moves, and a supernatural attack. Out of ten possible characters, four were female, which was understandable. I always use a female character when available, so I looked them over. One was the standard, scantily-clad girl: she was called "Mya," and was obviously the weakest one there. Another was a green-haired elfin enchantress, called "Tia," with a sword attack. Another choice was the usual Chinese martial artist with a tight bun and a tight uniform; her name was "Ling," obviously.

My choice, however, was particularly odd. She was dressed a lot like I was, but had a cat tail and ears. She had sleek black hair and red eyes. The strangest thing––and the thing that made me chose her––was her name: "MiMi." I figured it was just coincidence, and shrugged it off.

"I'll go first," said Dib, rolling his eyes. "I'll lose in a few seconds anyway."

So he grabbed the controller and selected a character at random. The CPU selected our field of battle: the generic martial arts ring. I took my brother out quickly with a low kick, a flip over my character's head, and a special move called "Cat Fist."

"Next," I said. Dib just laughed and tossed Zim the controller.

I started up a new battle; this time the fight took place inside a volcano. Zim was a little more skilled than my video game-illiterate brother, but I eventually beat him by throwing his character into the magma.

"If you fight this well in _life,_ I'm staying away from you," Zim remarked.

"MY TURN!" GIR cried emphatically.

I laughed, and told myself to go easy on him. GIR took the controller and bit it, then entered the battle. GIR stuck his tongue out and started pressing some random buttons. It was working though, and through some freak chance, he _beat_ me.

"WHAT?" I shouted. Zim and Dib looked from GIR to me. "How the––okay, rematch. I wasn't trying!"

So we fought again.

And the stupid little robot beat me _again!_

"WHOO!" GIR screamed happily.

"That does it!" I yelled, enraged. "One more!"

I beat him that time, but GIR wasn't really paying attention… he was biting the controller again. "Nobody's _ever_ beat me before!" I said as I shut the system off. "How could a dumb robot like _GIR_ beat me?"

GIR put the pizza box on his head and started to dance.

"He does a_ lot_ of things that normally would seem to be impossible for him," Zim replied.

GIR crashed into the wall, left the pizza box, and walked into the kitchen.

"And I have no clue why or how," Zim added. I grinned.

After a while and after a breakdance GIR, I grabbed my guitar and went up to my room. I undressed, put my pajamas on and flipped on the radio. I set it on a fairly low volume, then flopped down onto my bed, snatching up my GameSlave. When I'm alone, my mind tends to wander, and I become oblivious to everything else. If I'm reading, I flip the pages without catching the actual plot; if I'm playing a video game, my fingers do all the work.

This was one such instance. I was on autopilot as far as the game went, but otherwise deep inside myself.

I sighed and started to think about that new game I'd bought. Was it just a coincidence that there was a cat-like character named MiMi? Maybe I was just being paranoid. Then I remembered that, when I bought the game, it was the only copy of "Warped" in the store. And the name of the game itself was uncanny… wasn't one of Tak's machines called the "Time-Warp Machine?" Well, _yes,_ I answered myself. That was the machine that got us all into this mess in the first place. Tak wasn't setting us up, was she? She didn't strategically plant that game, did she, knowing that my weakness for video games would eventually make me buy it?

What was she up to, anyway? Zim said that she'd sent a transmission to the Irken leaders… what was that all about? Last time, she'd contacted them with a proposal so that she could hopefully convince them to promote her to Invader. Tak seemed a lot different now than she had when we'd first crossed paths with her. Last time, she knew exactly what she'd wanted. Now she seemed like a bloodthirsty demon bent on revenge and destruction. Also, she now worked alone in a base of operations, rather than using her hypnotic powers to take over an Earth corporation to hide behind. She had only her own resources and no backup. After her defeat last time, one would think that she would aim higher for security. Tak wasn't using reverse psychology, was she?

And, why hadn't she _done_ anything to us yet? She got what she wanted–– Zim was human. So why was she holding back? Zim had been human for a little over a day, and she'd done _nothing!_ No new hints, no attacks, no conquest––_nothing!_ Maybe she knew that Zim was still 13% Irken, and was trying to fix the glitch before taking any action.

That brought something else to mind. Tak said she'd found _two_ machine prototypes. One was obviously the Time-Warp Machine, but what was the other? The second machine must have been the one that had turned Zim human––but what _was_ it? Also, she had said that she was going to try the machines out "on us." Did "us" include Zim, or did that second machine have more than one purpose? Perhaps it had something to do with _all_ of Earth, and Tak's conquest of it.

The transmission to the Tallest––it must have been about that machine! Or, if not, it must have been about her rank being elevated now that the Invader, Zim, sent to destroy Earth was no longer an Irken. She did say something like that, I recalled. _"I am now the only Irken on this planet!"_ That's what she had said the night before. But she must have known that we'd catch on to her sooner or later, so she was just biding her sweet time, dealing with us before dealing with the planet.

Also, I couldn't help wondering if this 'future' was all a cruel setup. Tak must have fabricated it herself somehow with one or both of her new machines. How she did it was beyond me, and I wasn't about to work myself up on _why._ At the moment, though, Tak must have been working on how to fix her mistake and complete what she'd started on Zim. But once he became completely human, what would happen to him? By becoming a human, would that mean that he'd have to start a new life, forgetting that he was ever Irken? Did Tak even have the power, right, or even _ability_ to do that?

And even if she did… something told me that she wouldn't be able to bring herself to carry it out. For some reason, I got the feeling that the Tak we were dealing with now was not the real thing. I mean, yeah, it was her, it was Tak… but something in her eyes told me that she wasn't acting like herself lately. The thing was, though, that I didn't know what she was really like. Had she always been the personification of revenge and fury? Had her name always been synonymous with negative charisma?

Somehow, I doubted that.

From her point of view, what she had initially set out to do only seemed right, and I couldn't blame her. Her life had been ruined… of course she had to do something about it. But now it just seemed ridiculous. Even the plan she'd revealed to us before we screwed it up seemed absurd. What good would tampering with the space-time continuum do her? And what did she plan to do in terms of conquest now, anyway? It was as though every part of her 'plan' now relied simply on spur-of-the-moment ideas and random strokes of genius.

Last time, Tak had a well thought out, perfectly planned mission for herself. Now, on the other hand, she was completely unorganized! That much I knew was unlike her. The real Tak knew what she wanted and waited for the opportune moment to just reach out and grab it. Tak simply wasn't acting like that as of late. She was scatterbrained and yet persistent now, and it was apparent that she didn't know what she really wanted, or how to get it. A part of her did, I could tell, but another part of her was trying to convince her otherwise. It was possible that she was just not prepared with a scheme this time, or, more likely, she _did,_ but was waiting for something to happen in order for it to work.

In my delusional state, my fingers slipped and my game ended. Out of habit, I started a new game, just to keep my hands busy while my mind raced. I hardly even blinked, starting up a new game, since I just wove quickly out and back into my nearly dreamlike sequence of internal disputes.

My mind wandered back to the cafe where I'd caught Zim and Tak talking earlier that day. Where had he met her? How long had they been talking? What had they been talking about? And most importantly… Why did I care?

Before Friday, Zim had meant nothing to me. He was just an annoyance that amplified my brother's crazy obsession. Why, all of a sudden, did I seem so close to him? Why, all of a sudden, did I want to talk to him? To simply be in his company?

And what did _Dib_ think about all this? Was he aware of my feelings? And why was he acting so strangely? I didn't quite notice it at first, but ever since Friday evening, he'd been acting differently. Normally, Dib would be spending every waking minute trying to find some way out of this situation, but now he seemed to be a lot more tolerant of all that was going on, and handling things more like I do. It was like a calm before a storm, and it worried me just how calm my brother was.

Also, he wasn't griping about Zim. That in itself gave me reason to worry. True, he was tentative at first, but now… he hadn't overheard our conversations somehow, had he? Was he aware of those few moments when Zim and I were together? He was hiding his anger, I just _knew_ it. I mean, his own sister, obviously supposed to be on _his_ side, suddenly having amicable conversations with his sworn enemy… yeah, I guess he'd be upset. Dib would have a long accusatory lecture soon enough. He'd snap. I knew it. My brother, like Tak, was just simply waiting for the opportune moment.

Still, it was weird... life since Friday night. Zim was our houseguest. We'd never had a houseguest. Ever. Plus, what the hell had we just been doing? The three of us and GIR, just sitting around, eating pizza we'd bought with Dad's money, playing video games, and talking about absolutely nothing of consequence. I don't know about anyone else, but that is what I'm pretty damn sure is called friendship. Friendship. Us and Zim. What the hell.

But still, like I said, how I felt about Zim was what worried me the most. I gave myself a mental slap. _Zim is Irken, _I shouted at myself without actually saying it out loud. _He's Irken and you know it! You mean no more to him than any human does! Don't you remember what he really is? He hates you, and you hate him! It was only recently that he even learned your name!_

I thought back to the night when Zim had first used my name. _"You can't escape by teleporter, little Gaz,"_ he'd said, _"I cut the power!"_ Now, over the last couple of days, he'd addressed me by name many times over, and not in an avaricious way.

I dropped my GameSlave onto the floor; the batteries fell out. I sat up and stared out the window. The sky was dark and clear, and every light on the street was out. I looked at the wall clock. 9:25. I stared back out the window.

"Why can't I sleep?" I whispered. "Why can't I just get these agonizing thoughts out of my head and _sleep?"_

A wisp of hair fell into my eyes and I thought back to my uncomfortably intimate conversation with Zim. He was acting so unlike himself, as we all seemed to be doing as of late. We had both been so caught up in the moment that I think we both must have thrown aside all caution, and thrown aside our previously established roles. We'd disregarded any hate we'd felt toward each other since we first met. My heart skipped a beat.

_He'd told me that I was beautiful._

Why did he say that? Why did I _let_ him say that? Why did…

Why did I _like_ it when he said that?

For almost two years, I'd hated him more than words can say… and how I had the temerity to accept such a _compliment?_ Who's fault was it, then, mine or his? And what were we going to do about it?

Above all else, was _he_ having a similar internal conversation with himself right now? Not a chance, I thought, scolding myself for allowing such fantastic nonsense into my mind. _He's just confused, _I assured myself. _He just doesn't know how to be human, like he said. He doesn't know if he'll ever be Irken again, and talking to someone who reminds him of an Irken is just a comforting escape._

"That's the only reason he likes me," I reminded myself, speaking quietly. I tucked my knees up to my chin and clasped my arms around my legs. I relaxed my head and stared at absolutely nothing. "That's the only reason he likes me," I said again for additional reassurance. "Because I remind him of an Irken. That's all…"

But Irkens don't _love, _do they? I don't think they even _can._ So why did Zim care that I reminded him of an Irken Tallest?

Miyuki, he'd called her.

We'll he couldn't have been in _love_ with this Miyuki person, right? He couldn't have had some sort of relationship with her if it's genetically impossible for Irkens, right? So why, then, did he care that I reminded him of Miyuki? It was all in the past, wasn't it? Miyuki had died a long time go; Zim said to himself. So what the hell would make him think of her again? And at such a time! Was it all just flattery? Was he just looking for some half-assed excuse to explain why and how I meant something to him? He was probably just trying to find something about Earth that he could tolerate. So why did that something have to be _me?_ Of all people, why _me?_

I didn't ask to be a part of any of this. I was just Dib's backup. I didn't want anything to do with the Irkens or their so-called Invasion. I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to live. If Dib _hadn't_ dragged me into this, none of this would have been _happening_ to me. No matter what Tak did, I would neither know nor care what it was. Life would be normal! I'd have been walking around in the same shadow of oblivion that everyone else on this planet was.

So why? Why was I a part of this? Why did I care so much? What in God's name was _wrong_ with me? Why was I letting all of this get to me? When would it end? _Would_ it end?

Everything has to come to an end. That's just how it works. So how about this? How would all this end? If Zim didn't become Irken again, what would happen? Would he be on our side, or just not care either way? What if Tak won? What if it ended _her_ way? Would she restore Earth? Would she _kill_ us, or keep us close by? And, if she did spare our lives, what for? Servitude? Torture? _Both?_

I pictured the Earth in ruins and shivered. That wouldn't happen would it? As much as I hated my fellow man, as much as I'd love to see some humans get what they deserved, I didn't want it to end like that. As of now, Dib and I are this planet's only defense, because we're the only ones who know what's going on and who's behind it. The very idea made me tremble. _Why_ _me?_ I kept on asking myself. _Why me?_

Even if we did get rid of Tak; even if we did get home and Zim became Irken again… we'd still have to fight. The thought of losing my home, my family, and maybe even my _life_ ate away at me, consumed me. No matter what, this would all have to come to an end. How many would die; how many would suffer? How long would this stupid Invasion last? The Irkens were stronger, and Earth was completely unprepared. Even at that, the Irken military would probably stop at nothing to get all the planets in the universe under their control.

I didn't want to be a part of this. I didn't want to be a part of this at _all._ What had I done to deserve to be caught up in intergalactic affairs? I didn't have any reason to be a part of this! None of this concerned me. _So_ _why? _I thought again and again. I had no desire to play any sort of role in some big, interplanetary war, and here I was, playing a very important role indeed. My eyes watered––something that had never happened before. Why was I involved? Why did I care? _WHY ME?_

I'd lost my grip on reality, however loose it may already have been. I'd lost my last shards of dignity and sanity I may have had left. I'd lost myself. I'd been ripped at the seams and torn apart. That's all there is to it. I didn't know what to think anymore. Nothing made sense, nothing was the same. And that's when I knew it. That's when it hit me.

I was dangerously close to falling in love.

God_dammit,_ _LOVE! _Once again, Lord, why _me?_ Deny it though I tried, I knew I had a crush, and on my own brother's worst enemy. Someone who wasn't even _human._ Why me, why me, _why me?_ Worst of all, I didn't know how much he liked me in return, or if he even did. He only liked me because I reminded him of an Irken! Why, why, _why?_ Dear God, _why?_ Why did I have to remind Zim of Miyuki? Was I enough like her to make him _love_ me? He'd almost _kissed _me. Maybe he was different. Maybe he, unlike other Irkens, _did_ accidentally fall in love. Would he have kissed Miyuki?

_No!_ I scolded myself harshly. _No, no, no! Don't think like that!_ Even if Zim _had_ loved Miyuki, she was dead now! She died decades before I was born! So why, now would _I_ of _all_ people remind Zim of––

_"Irkens are guaranteed a predestined reincarnation."_

My eyes watered, but then I narrowed them again, afraid to snap them completely shut. "Don't even _think_ that, Gaz," I warned myself under my breath. "That's all just… stupid! I don't believe in reincarnation! That's stupid paranormal stuff! I do not believe in that!" My heart pounded heavily against my chest, and I drew my knees in tighter. "It can't be…" I whispered, trying hard to suppress the notion. "It just can't be true…" But what if it was? What if…

What if it wasn't just coincidence? No… I just didn't believe in that stuff! But, then again, just because I don't believe in something doesn't make it a fallacy. Still… it couldn't be true! That would just be too weird. 'There's no _way,' _I told myself. 'There's just no way!'

_"She was incredible," _Zim had told me. _"Tactful yet sincere…"_

_ NO!_ I shouted at myself. _That's stupid! So you remind Zim of an Irken! So what?_ But wouldn't the fact that I'm the sister of his adversary make him _hate_ me? Why did he have to bring up Miyuki _now?_ Just how well did he _know_ her? What if… But… oh, God, what if it was true? What if Zim did have her on his mind for a reason?

_What if I was once Miyuki?_

"Why me?" I whispered.

And then, for the first time in my life… I cried.

-end part one-

**-SONG CREDITS-**

"Ode to a Dying Day" and "Unspoken" - Lacuna Coil

"Bring Me To Life" and "Even In Death" - Evanescence

"Cities In Dust" -Siouxsie and the Banshees

"Heart Shaped Box" - Nirvana

"Bela Lugosi's Dead" - Bauhaus

"Polarity" - ThouShaltNot

"Stained" - Android Lust

See you next Friday with Part Two!


	2. Part Two

**Author's Note:**

Part two of my old story, originally written between 2002-03. What follows is the final edit.

Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, and favorited so far! Do let me know what you think :3

-Invader Zim is -c- Jhonen Vasquez.-

-All grammar and wordings herein are expressed and detailed in Gaz's writing.-

-All musical credit is given at the end of the document.-

~Jizena~

**Time Warp Factor Five**

**Part Two**

I didn't sleep at all. Ten years' worth of tears I'd never cried streamed like rivers out of my eyes and flowed still as the sun rose. I was losing myself… losing who I'd always been. But what if I hadn't always been just Gaz? What if that hadn't always been my name? I didn't want to believe in the paranormal… I didn't want to find out that I used to be someone else.

There was a knock at my door. "Go away," I choked, burying my face into my knees as I pulled them closer to me. "I don't want to talk to you!"

The door opened anyway, and Zim stepped in. Great. Just who I wanted to see first thing in the miserable morning. He'd gone on and on the previous day about Miyuki, Miyuki, Miyuki. Then he'd dared to compliment me the way he had. What a jerk. "Gaz, are you…" he began.

"I _said _I don't want to _talk _to you!" I snapped, not looking at him. "You ruined my _life!"_

"Great, _another_ one?" he scoffed.

"Who was Miyuki?" I demanded coldly, glaring at Zim. My eyes were not used to being puffy and cloudy from crying, and took a few blinks to adjust. I wished tear ducts could be things you could just rip out when they bothered you like this. Once I could see him, I wished I was looking anywhere else. I was tired beyond belief, and my stomach hurt, both from conflicted feelings and one too many slices of pizza the night before. I felt my face get hot, and had to convince myself it was only out of rage. "Why do I remind you of her?"

"Is _that_ what's bothering you?" he asked, leaning against the wall. I dried my eyes and nodded. _"Why?"_

"Zim, why do I remind you of Miyuki?" I demanded again.

"Jeez, Gaz, calm _down,"_ said Zim. "I was just making an analogy. You and your brother both possess qualities that she did, and I just found it kinda funny that I'd find someone on Earth who reminded me of an Irken."

"Do Irkens really reincarnate?" I asked, continuing as though he had not spoken.

Zim raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

I just stared at him.

There was a pause, and then Zim burst out laughing. "Is that what you're afraid of?" he asked me, as though I had been joking. "That you _are_ Miyuki? Look, Gaz," he went on, stifling his laughter as much as he could. "We _keep_ our names when we start over. If your name was Miyuki, _then_ you'd have reason to worry."

"But…"

Zim grinned. "You're a smart girl, Gaz," he said, "and I hate to admit it, but I like you. You're okay. You're different from the other humans, and you just seem like a natural-born intellectual. You're tactful and clever, and, I dunno. Different. You're a pretty interesting girl. It's just coincidence that you remind me of Miyuki."

"Honestly?"

"Yeah. Now get your ass up. Dib has to show you something."

I scowled. I stayed up all night worrying for _nothing?_ Oh, he was gonna pay.

Couldn't let on to that yet, though. My eyes finally dry, I shifted to sit cross-legged on the edge of my bed, and pieced together what I could, despite my sleep deprivation. Fact one: I was not Miyuki. This was great. Beyond great. Hallefrigginlujah, I could breathe another day. Fact two: Zim was the only person who had ever seen me cry, and it had better, I made a note of to myself, stay that way. Fact three: Zim was in my room. In the morning. In my room. And, somehow, Dib was okay with this? Huh.

Embarrassment crept in, since I never had visitors, let alone possible objects of affection. I took in what I could: Zim was still dressed as usual... he really needed a new shirt for the next day, or he'd outwear that one something awful; he looked more rested than he had the day before. He seemed more human than he had the day before. His speaking pattern that morning was less like his usual one, I realized. Maybe that was just cause and effect after waking up. He'd settle back into it. He was Invader Zim, after all.

"Why are you still standing there?" I demanded.

"Heh?"

"Why are you still standing there?" I snapped. "Out, out, out!"

"What?" Zim yelped. "Why, what'd I do?"

"You're standing in a girl's room with no sense of decency or privacy!" I reprimanded. "Go away!"

"Fine, fine," Zim gave in. But I noticed the little smirk he flashed me just before taking his leave. It wasn't rueful, it wasn't superior. Just a smirk. A knowing one. For someone whose facial expressions are usually so contorted and over the top, he sure was mastering the subtle ones fast... and mastering the ability to confuse me with them.

I decided I'd shower later, so I just dragged myself out of bed, my sleepless night already catching up with me, got dressed, at tied my hair back. I thudded sluggishly down the stairs and almost tripped over GIR. Well, actually, I _did,_ but I soon caught myself.

"Okay, what?" I asked my brother when I joined him in the kitchen. He was dressed and alert already, still insisting on wearing that trench coat. He was drinking a glass of orange juice, and for some reason that tipped me off to how huge his hands were now. I tried to dismiss it as my tired eyes playing tricks on me, before I realized it made sense. Dad has large hands and long fingers, and Dib took after him so much already, I could only imagine that he'd grow up to look a lot like what Dad must under the goggles and lab coat.

"What the hell is wrong with _you?"_ Dib greeted me in return.

"No sleep," I answered groggily, blinking a few times to adjust my eyes to the light. "Zim said you've got something to show me?"

"Oh, yeah, that," said Dib, clearing his throat. He sipped down the rest of the orange juice, set the glass in the sink, and added, "Yeah, come down the lab with me."

"You know, Dad's gonna cut you up and roast you for dinner when he finds out that you've been using his lab," I told Dib as we walked down the stairs.

"In the worst way," Dib agreed.

Zim was already in the lab, scrolling through Tak's files.

"Okay, move it," Dib ordered.

"You know," said Zim, stepping aside and folding his arms, "as much as I appreciate this _now,_ this will all be unheard of once I'm Irken again."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dib replied, shrugging it off. "Just make sure you return the favors."

"Eh? _Favors?"_ Zim spat, outraged. "I've helped you one time too many, and you ask for _more?" _Aha. There was the Invader again. I knew he'd snap back into himself. What a weird person, I thought. Of everyone in the world, my stomach sinks in front of the abrasive alien who can't control the tone of his voice. Well. As an Irken, it's annoying. As a human, it was... ridiculous enough to be endearing. I just used the word endearing. Ugh.

"What are you _talking_ about?" Dib shot back, turning to face Zim. "I've helped you _several_ times more than you have helped me!"

"Nonsense!" Zim scoffed. "I––"

"SHUT UP!" I hollered, stomping my foot. Weird feeling or no weird feeling, things like this could still piss me off. "If you don't stop arguing _right now,_ I'll wring both your necks!"

Knowing that I was serious, the two finally ceased.

Dib cleared his throat and opened up a file. "I found it," he announced: "Tak's personal log." The computer translated the file into binary, then into English. "She has permission from the Tallest to launch an attack on Earth tomorrow," Dib explained as he scanned through the file. "The Armada will arrive upon completion," he continued, "which Tak promises by the end of the week."

"That conniving little…" Zim snarled, cracking his knuckles.

"Well, would you look at that," Dib mused, reaching the end of the file.

"What?"

"Tak just got promoted to Invader."

"WHAT?" yelped Zim, clenching his hands into fists. He started walking angrily toward the stairs. "I am going over there _right now_ to––"

"Hold it," I said, grabbing him passively by the collar.

"Hey!" Zim choked.

"Nobody's going _any_where until we know what's going on."

"I'll _tell_ you what's going on," said Zim, freeing himself and walking back around to face me. "Tak stole my _mission,_ _that's_ what's going on! And _I'm_ going to get it _back!"_

With that, he pushed past me and stormed up the stairs. I rolled my eyes and looked over at Dib, who said, "Well, there's no stopping him. We might as well go."

I grinned and started up the stairs, Dib close behind. On my way up the stairs, I tripped over GIR again. "GODDAMMIT!" I shouted, grabbing the little thing by his neck. "Do something about this, will you?" I instructed Zim, shoving the meddlesome robot into his hands when I walked into the living room.

"Um…" said Zim.

"Okay!" I began, quickly moving away from the subject. "Now what?"

"Well," Dib replied, "tomorrow is Labor Day, so we can make use of the whole _night_ if we have to. We don't have to worry about the rest of the Armada yet so… what do you say? Wanna infiltrate Tak's base?"

"I'm in," Zim declared. "You _will_ help me get back to normal if I help you restore Earth, right?"

"Yep," Dib assured him. "Gaz?"

"I guess I'm in," I shrugged, "but do we have a _plan?_ If I'm gonna get killed cuz we don't have a plan, then forget it."

"Gaz, you won't get _killed," _Dib laughed. I guess he didn't know I was being serious. "What we're aiming for is this: get in, and find some way to restrain Tak. Once we have her caught, the rest'll be easy."

"Easy." I repeated doubtfully.

"Sure. We'll have her pegged, so she'll _have_ to talk. We can get her to tell us how to reverse everything."

"Sounds _too_ easy," I said, thinking it over, "but, what the hell?"

So there we had it. Leaving GIR at the house so he wouldn't hinder our attack, we set off to fight Tak. We were able to make it into her base and down into her main lab unnoticed. The lab was empty, and a chill went down my spine. My instincts told me we shouldn't be there, not just because of the obvious, but because we weren't prepared.

Tak's image appeared on the wallscreen. "I knew it was only a matter of time," she said, glaring at us, "but _why_ did you have to come here _now?"_

The floor gave way beneath us, and we fell several feet into another laboratory. This one was darker and less equipped, and not quite as big. Zim and Dib stood quickly, and I picked myself up once I'd studied my surroundings. Tak stood several feet away, her arms folded, her purple eyes gleaming.

"You've chosen a very bad time to challenge me," said Tak, activating her hologram. "I just don't _feel_ like fighting today."

"Tough," Zim spat, stepping forward.

"For _whom?"_ Tak wondered, walking to the nearest wall. She grabbed an Irken revolver off its mount and pointed it at Zim. "Just because I don't feel like fighting doesn't mean I won't kill you," she said.

Zim took a few steps back in shock. "Jeez, Tak, are you serious?" he yelped, his voice wavering and cracking ever so slightly. I did not like this. One bit. It's true what they say, I guess. _Always_ be prepared.

"This is what a real Invader should look like," Tak said coldly. "Killing my enemy should not be a crime."

Zim glanced over at me, then darted to the opposite wall, causing Tak to follow him with her aim. That—fucking_ that—_was the first time I got an odd stare from my brother. Dib was studying the battle between Irkens (well, one Irken and one should-be-Irken), but he took a moment to glance over his shoulder at me after Zim had given me a very different look. Zim's glance had said, _I'm the target, Gaz, not you._ Dib's was more like, _What the hell was that?_ In it was also mixed a bit of, _Whatever it is, I'm gonna find out._ Which was all I needed.

The worst of it was, there was nothing for Dib _to_ find out. What, Zim and I had spoken a couple of times alone. So what. Dib had left us alone. For all I knew, Zim was making fun of me. Then again, for all I knew, his human mentality was settling in much faster than Dib or I could guess.

None of that sappy shit was important right now, however. What was important was that Tak was hell-bent on getting rid of one of us, and her desired target was more than clear. Her motives still confused me. I began to bet that she had no idea what she was doing.

"Why are you _doing_ this, Tak?" Zim demanded of her.

"Right now, we're even," she replied, still keeping a firm grip on the gun. "You ruined my life, and by making you human, I've ruined yours, but if you get in my way, I'll have to kill you. I don't _want _to kill you; you're still essential, or, you could be_…_ but I warn you, Zim, I won't let anybody jeopardize my mission."

"YOUR mission?"

"Yes, _my_ mission!" Tak's eyes narrowed, and she steadied the gun. "I'm giving you a chance to live," she told him flatly. "Get out of here, Zim."

Zim stared her straight in the eye and replied, in an incredibly human tone, "Bite me."

Tak snarled. "So that's how it will be," she said bitterly.

Everything happened so quickly, so it will be hard for me to relate. An impulse surged through my body, driving me to do one of the stupidest things I've ever done in my life.

I did not want Zim to die. That's all there is to it. Maybe the impulse was driven by love, or maybe by fear. Whatever it was, it was stupid. Instinctively, I rushed over to them, using myself as a human shield. I'll probably never know why, but I did.

So there I was, standing between Tak and Zim. My initial plan was to stop Tak from firing the revolver, at least biding us some time to get the hell _out_ of that godforsaken place and rework our strategy. Well, _that_ idea sure as hell didn't work. Perhaps it's because I got there too soon, or too late. Or perhaps Tak just _had_ to do _some_thing. Whatever the reason, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Tak pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to stop for a moment, and the blast from the gun didn't reach my ears until seconds after it sounded. I felt a sting just below my heart, and I choked on my breath. I began to feel lightheaded as all of my blood rushed to the spot where the Irken bullet had pierced my flesh.

_"GAZ!"_ Dib cried. I involuntarily fell backwards from the impact, and Dib was quick to rush over and catch me before I hit the ground.

In an outrage, Zim grabbed Tak by the arm and threw her into the opposite wall, knocking her unconscious. My head was spinning, and I could not focus on any single thing. My views went from my brother to the ceiling to the far wall where Tak lay in a heap, to Zim, whose expressive face had been wiped clean of emotion, and looked pale and full of unsure worry.

"Gaz, talk to me," my brother pleaded. "Please… just… let me know you'll be okay! Come on, Gaz, _please say something!_ Anything!"

I placed my right hand over the bullet hole, and it was immediately soaked in blood.

_"You're going to fall first."_

Tak's words echoed inside my head, and my vision began to fade. My hands and face felt numb, and a chill swept over my entire body.

I couldn't breathe; my body wouldn't let me.

I knew that I was dying.

"I'm sorry," I managed to say before the world closed in around me, and I was wrapped in silence.

– – –

There is no worse feeling on Earth than waking up in a morgue. It was bad enough being so unconscious that even _I_ thought I was dead, but even worse to wake up unsure of my status, surrounded by cold, bloody corpses. The last thing I could remember was becoming enveloped in darkness after being shot, and I swear my heart had stopped.

I put a hand to my chest. Well, my heart was beating now, but at what cost? The wound from the bullet had been treated, but I was still in my now-bloodstained clothes from the day. I wanted to scream, but I didn't.

_How long have I been in this frigid place?_ I wondered, looking around. Thank God they hadn't embalmed me yet.

I hesitantly sat up and got off the gurney I'd awoken in. I found it hard to walk, and a little hard to see in the dim light of the morgue. I groped my way along the wall, trying to stay as far away as I could from the hordes of dead people lying all around me. Once I'd made it to the exit, I just really wanted to throw up. There's a lot I can stomach, and I always figured that dead things were among them. I remember being little and poking at dead squirrels... but there's another, more hollow, patch in my memory that has to do with hospitals. I distinctly remember once, when I was about two, sitting in a hospital waiting room and knowing that this one old guy with a chronic cough was coming in for the last time. Death is strange. Decay was all well and interesting—hell, I still find it interesting and stupidly poetic sometimes—but being surrounded by it upon waking is gross to stomach, even for me.

I pushed the door open slowly, then found myself in an empty corridor at the back of the town hospital. Still finding the normally simple task of walking an all-out battle with attempts to steady my legs, I once again used the wall for additional support as I walked down the hall. I heard voices and mild activity at the end of the corridor, which relieved me. It was rather pleasant and comforting, considering where I had just been. The end of the hallway opened up into a small waiting room. My heart leaped when I saw my brother leaning against one of the bare walls.

Dib looked extremely downtrodden, and his eyes were clouding; he was on the verge of tears. "This just can't be happening," he said to himself quietly, hanging his head. "She _can't_ really be gone. She just can't be… _dead._ Oh, God, how am I gonna tell Dad? This isn't fair! Why'd she have to die?"

I found my footing and walked into the room, cautiously approaching my brother. When I spoke, my throat felt dry and neglected, and my voice was light and detached, as though unused for a very long time. "Dib…" I began, not quite knowing what to say.

Dib lifted his head slowly. When he saw me, he paled and his eyes widened. He backed away from me and pushed away from the wall, gazing at me in horror all the while. "No…" he said, his voice trembling in fear. He shook his head, trying to dismiss a thought. "No, no, _no!_ Gaz, don't _do_ this!"

"Dib, I…" I started.

"Leave me alone!" Dib cried, a couple tears streaming out of his eyes. "Don't do this to me!"

"Do what?" I asked, my voice still annoyingly faint.

"Gaz, please…" Dib begged, still terrified. "You… you wouldn't…"

"What?" I tried again. I was getting annoyed, but not enough to be angry.

"Gaz, please, stop!" Dib pleaded sadly. "It's hard enough for me to accept that you're gone… just don't make it any worse! I'm sorry if I did something to you that made you feel like you had to materialize yourself, so just... don't do it anymore. I'm sorry, Gaz… but don't torture me like this. Don't _do_ this to me, Gaz, I'm _begging _you!"

I took a step toward him, but he just backed away. I tried a second time, but got the same reaction.

"Why are you doing this?" Dib asked me timidly. "If you have to tell me something, Gaz, please, say it. Don't haunt me anymore! Why did you come back? Please, just… tell me and go!"

I reached out and put my hands on Dib's shoulders, and I could feel him shiver as a chill went through him. "I never left," I told him as softly as I could.

Dib's eyes widened again, and he took my hands off his shoulders and clasped them firmly. "How..?" he asked quietly. "How is it that I can _touch_ you?"

I felt myself smile. I never smile. "Because I'm not dead," I answered.

"But I…" said Dib, looking confused. "I watched you die! I saw her shoot you… I felt you stop breathing!"

I lifted my shirt to reveal the bullet's mark. It had just barely grazed the upper part of my left ribcage. "She missed," I said.

Dib blinked. "So, you… they made a mistake!" he exclaimed. "You're really here, aren't you? In body? …Alive!"

I poked myself. "Mmmyep," I confirmed.

"Oh, my God, Gaz! You're alive!" Dib cried. For the first time ever, we… uh… hugged. Yeah. It was weird, but it made me glad that I mattered. "I was so worried!" Dib went on, not letting go. "Everyone said you were _dead!_ This is incredible!"

"Yeah, _I_ thought I was dead, too," I told him. "I'm glad I'm not!"

I suddenly heard annoying, sappy music playing. Dib and I let go and turned around.

"Welcome back," said Zim, who was standing there with a small stereo balanced on his shoulder. He shut it off and the irritating music stopped. "How was death?"

"It sucks, I think," I replied. "How long have I been out?"

"Long enough for them to declare you dead," my brother answered, his already awkward voice wavering a little at the idea. "It's almost midnight."

_"What?"_

"Yeah," he continued. "Let's see… you were in a coma for quite a while, then at about ten past eleven, your heart stopped, or so the monitor said, and they moved you… uh… out back." Dib was speaking with difficulty, and did not take his still-clouded eyes off of me the entire time. My heart skipped; I think we felt it at the same time. Sure, we had Dad, but... well, did we, really? If either Dib or I ever died, where would the other be? Mom was gone, Dad was too aloof to notice—brother and sister, all we had was each other. On normal occasions, I tolerate my brother, at best. Now, though... I'd seriously be dead without him. That night, I really had a brother; a family. Sucks it took me to the brink of death to realize it, but at least now I knew what family was supposed to feel like.

"Jesus," I said, not coming up with anything else at the moment. "And you've been here the whole time?"

The two of them nodded.

"Even you?" I asked Zim. There was a pause, and my eyes were locked with his for a good three or four seconds before he reacted.

Nervous and confused, he blushed. He'd never looked less Irken—his high, pale cheekbones flushed a light red, his dark brown eyes as unfathomably focused as they had been the previous night, when we were alone in the living room. "Well, uh…" he stuttered, tripping over his words. "I just… well, that is to say… um… I only wanted to make sure that…"

"Okay, okay," I interrupted, sparing him the pain of trying to come up with an excuse.

"Here," said Dib, giving me the keys to the car. "Start it up. I'll be out in a minute. I'm just gonna try to explain this to the receptionist."

"Good _luck,"_ Zim laughed, following me out.

For a few paces, Zim followed a safe distance behind me. The clack of my heeled boots on the concrete walk that led from the front door to the parking lot was echoed by the crunch of the gravel beneath his beaten sneakers. Maybe it was a side effect of having been in a coma—and then a freezer—for a while, but my hearing seemed to be amped up to supersonic now that we were outside of the busy hospital, and the dual footsteps started to irritate me. "Why're you following me so close like that?" I demanded, trying not to speak too loudly.

"Eh?"

"Why're you—" I began again... before losing my footing. I had not completely recovered from my hospitalization. Before I could trip too horribly over myself, Zim, who was just an arm's length from me, stepped up and grabbed my shoulders, thereby saving me from falling. It took my spinning head a second to catch up to what had just happened, but I shook myself into focus quickly and, out of instinct, I grabbed Zim's forearms to aid myself in my balance.

Zim helped me find my feet again, then said, "Gravity's a bitch, isn't it?"

That got a grin out of me. "You would know," I found myself joking right back. I looked up and saw that Zim had cracked a smile after that comment. He sure was handling his situation well. A couple days in and he was already finding humor in his plight.

Questions tugged at me, but I refused to ask them aloud. Question why he'd diverted Tak's attention from me in her lab... question why he was so quick to help me... question why the hell he'd dared to call me beautiful the night before. And, of course, question whether or not he really thought that...

"So, um," I transitioned, "I was kinda unconscious when we got here, so—"

"I know," said Zim, as if I hadn't been about to finish a thought. I took a second to read his face again: he looked washed out, for the second time that evening, just like he had been back in the lab when he'd seen me fall. He nervously bowed his head and looked off to the side and added in a whispered mutter, "I carried you in."

"Huh?" I wondered, pretending I hadn't heard him. I wasn't sure if he'd meant for me to hear that part or not. Can't tell, with Zim. He's always talked out loud to himself, just like my brother does.

"Nothing," Zim covered.

"Hm, right," I said. "So, yeah, because of that, I dunno where Dib parked..."

"Oh!" Zim realized. Light and purpose returned to his face, and he perked his head up. "It was, eh... lot A. Right close by." He gave himself a few seconds, then asked, "Need help?"

"What? No," I said, turning to head back to the parking lot. I tripped again. This time, when Zim caught me, I shrugged him off. "I can do it fine!" I hissed. I was more annoyed by the fact that I couldn't walk than the fact that he was being so nice to me. I'm not used to people being nice to me, and with Zim—_man,_ that comment the night before had thrown me off—I still did not know whether to believe he was being sincere, or wonder if he was making fun of me. Or if this human side of him was really him at all.

"You don't like being helped out, much, do you?" Zim guessed.

"I don't like being touched," I corrected.

"Why?"

"It's my own damn business, isn't it?" I muttered. Zim shut up after that.

Walking still felt odd, but I managed to make my way to the car. Instinctively, I got in the passenger seat, so I grumbled and leaned over to put the key into the ignition. I started up the car and turned on the radio. I flipped through the stations and found a metal-oriented one eventually. I tell you, finding metal (or even just _rock)_ stations is so difficult! You have to sift forever through pop music and that shit they call 'rap' until you can arrive at a semi-decent safe haven of noise. Then, when you _do_ find said haven, it never fails to cut to an advertisement after announcing that you've just missed your favorite song because you were too busy trying to find the damned station in the _first_ place.

So, yeah. Anyway, they were playing White Zombie's "More Human Than Human." I didn't realize my mistake in putting it on there until the chorus started.

"Gaz," said Zim from the back seat, "would you turn that irony off?"

"Oh, whoops."

We didn't have another actual conversation, because Dib came back soon after I turned off the radio.

"Well, _that_ was the strangest conversation I've ever had," he remarked, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Do tell," I prompted.

"Well," he began, pulling into traffic, "I just said to the receptionist: 'My sister's not dead, so we're gonna go now.' She stared at me and accused me of being delusional. I corrected her… a few times. Eventually, she told me to leave because I was keeping her awake."

"What'd she say on the subject of my being alive?" I wondered.

"Well, her exact words were: 'Okay, okay, your sister's alive. I believe you. Now leave; you're keeping me awake.' Honestly."

I laughed.

"So now what?" asked Zim after a while.

"Well," Dib began in response, "we're not going back to_ Tak's_ place for a while, _that's_ for sure!" He cleared his throat. "After what happened today, I––_oh, my GOD!"_

He suddenly slammed on the brakes––in the middle of the highway!––and put the car into park. He put a hand to his throat. "It stopped…" he said in an undertone, a startled look on his face.

"Of _course_ it stopped, you _idiot,"_ I spat. _"You_ slammed on the brakes!"

"No, no, not that," said Dib, still keeping his tone of voice mildly silent. "My _voice."_

"What _about_ it?" I asked, a little annoyed. There were no cars behind us, oddly enough, but I was still a bit irked by the whole "let's just stop the car in the middle of the highway" thing.

Raising his tone to a normal speaking level, Dib repeated, "My _voice."_ He turned to look at me, his eyes wide. "It's leveled off," he said, still a bit panicked. "I can't… it's not switching back to normal anymore."

He looked forward again and cleared his throat nervously. _"Dammit!"_ he spat, taking out his anger on the steering wheel. "You see? I can't get it back to normal!"

"Jeez, you're _right," _ I said, realizing that he was.

Since our 'arrival,' Dib was always able to stop his voice from snapping randomly to a lower tone, and prevent his voice from cracking slightly, always by just simply clearing his throat when necessary. Well, not anymore, I guess. Though not a drastic change, it was clear that Dib now spoke in a noticeably lower, more mature voice. He sounded a lot more like a sixteen-year-old now, rather than the kid he really was.

"Hey, Dib," Zim said. "One of those cars with the blinky lights is headed towards us. You _might_ wanna go."

Dib sighed. "Fine," he said, putting the car in drive and tapping the accelerator to get the car back up to speed. "Sorry," he added after a few seconds. "That wasn't necessary. I just… flipped out, that's all."

When we got home, Dib unemotionally threw the car keys onto the coffee table. "I'll be in my room," he stated flatly, walking to the stairs. "I just… need some time to think."

"'Kay," I said.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a soda. I looked at it, then closed the door slowly. I leaned back against the refrigerator and just stared at the can of soda in my hands.

"Why is this happening?" I wondered out loud.

"Hmm?" asked Zim, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

"Oh, nothing," I replied. "Go away."

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow. His face lit up with sudden clarity—it read as a usual Invader _aha_ moment, such as the second he'd figured out that Dib was taller than he was when we'd run into each other on the street earlier in the week. Suddenly, that seemed like a long time ago. "Am I still ruining your life?"

"Well," I answered, opening my soda and walking past Zim and into the living room, "you're on my list of possible _suspects_ for ruining my life."

"Hey, have some respect!" Zim spat. "I was really worried about you!"

I turned to look at him. "You… you _were?"_ I asked, giving him a look of skepticism.

"Sure! I mean, well… yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" I remembered his random comment from the parking lot—he'd carried me in. Sequence of events: he protected me, he looked worried when I was gunned down, he _went with Dib to the hospital,_ he carried me in, he helped me stand up, he offered his assitance... and I was very confused.

"Because I'm a human, and you've always hated me for what I am."

"Ah, right." I couldn't tell if my comment had shocked or shaken him. Zim was getting better and better at hiding his emotions, which made him less and less Irken... and more and more my speed.

I sat down on the couch, trying to clear my head.

"So who are they?" Zim wanted to know. He walked into the room and sprawled out on the armchair.

"Who?"

"The suspects."

"Oh," I said. "Well, there's you, Dib, Dad, your leaders, my mother… but, mainly Tak."

"Whoa, hold it," said Zim, sitting up straight and holding up a hand. "Why the Tallest?"

"Well, if _you're_ on the list, _they_ are for sending you here," I explained.

"Don't you _dare_ speak that way about the Tallest!" Zim ordered harshly, leaping out of the chair. Well, this was a turn of events. He loomed over me, and his eyes narrowed. "The Tallest are _not_ to blame for _anything!"_ he shouted, hauling me up by my shirt collar. "If anything, they should be _thanked!_ You should consider yourself _lucky_ that great leaders like Red and Purple even saw this planet as _remotely_ grand enough for our empire to conquer!"

_"Lucky?"_ I spat, putting my hands up to my neck to prevent Zim from choking me. "Why?" Zim spun me around and rammed me into the wall. "Ow!" I cried involuntarily.

"Don't talk back to me!" Zim shouted, his deep brown eyes shining as though trying to show a hint of their former Irken gleam. "You will respect me and you will respect my Tallest! I don't want to _have_ to dispose of your race, but I am strictly under orders, so don't ruin it for the rest of your kind! The Tallest might find you humans _useful _if––"

"Idiot!" I yelled, slapping him across the face. He let go of me in shock, but quickly slammed me against the wall again, this time keeping a firm grasp on my arms.

"How _dare_ you..?" he growled through clenched teeth.

"Wake _up,_ moron!" I said darkly, glaring at him. "You're a human, too."

"Only half!"

_"More_ than half!" I corrected angrily. "If you went to the Tallest now, they wouldn't recognize you. You're _nobody_ to them now, Zim; you're a _human!_ I listened to your side, now you listen to mine! You can deny it all you want, but this is who you are! Look at yourself––I mean it! You'll see! You said so yourself: you can't destroy your own race! You wanna destroy us humans, then _fine!_ Go for it, Zim, be a martyr! No one will _care!"_

"Shut up!" Zim hollered. "Shut up or I'll––"

"Or you'll what?" I snapped. "You don't have that _thing_ on your back anymore; you can't shoot me with lasers or whatever! Face it, Zim, you're human; and I'll never help you get back to normal because you're an inept, conceited idiot and I _hate you!"_

Zim snarled and pushed me further into the wall, and he clenched his hands even tighter around my arms, his fingers nearly digging into my skin. "I'm _ten times stronger _than you!" he shouted angrily, his deep voice resonating throughout the house. "I don't _need_ my PAK to destroy you… I can crush you with my _bare hands!"_

I screamed and I felt my eyes water. I snapped my eyes shut reluctantly. I didn't initially want to take my eyes off Zim, for fear that he would find that as an opening to harm me. "Let go!" I pleaded, one step closer to crying again. "Don't––"

"Don't _what?"_ Zim barked. "Listen, little girl, you've succeeded in _fully pissing me off,_ and when that happens, there's _consequences!"_ He grabbed me by the collar and slammed me into the wall again, this time with even more force. I'd never been handled like that; I felt like I was being hit by a car. "You've been doing this to me for a while, haven't you?" he demanded coldly. "You've been slowly trying to push my limits!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I cried.

_"Bullshit!"_ Zim snapped.

"Let _go_ of me!" I screamed, looking him straight in the eye. A few of my tears fell (as I prayed they _wouldn't)_, but I didn't let that stop me from staring him down. I glared up at him hatefully. Stupid, Gaz, thinking this guy was anything but the rash Irken he'd always been. "I don't have to take this from you," I growled, "you're not the real threat anymore! You have a human conscience and human flaws! I believed you when you said you were worried about me! _I trusted you!_ I can't believe it! You're physically strong, Zim, but goddammit, you're emotionally weak! Know what else? You're human, just like me, and I _don't_ have to _take this from you!"_

I broke free of his grip (surprisingly) (I actually think he loosened his grip, because he looked a little shocked that I hadn't completely submitted) and stormed off toward the stairs. "Oh, and another thing," I added, spinning around. Zim folded his arms and stared at me sternly. "You have," I said, "the _strangest_ mood swings out of anyone I've ever met!"

With that, I turned on my heel and stormed up to my room and slammed the door.

I stripped off my bloody clothes and threw them all into a pile in the corner. A quick glance around my room directed me to a bathrobe, which I tossed on after flinging my jewelry off to the side. "Dib!" I shouted down the hall as I strode from my room to the bathroom. No answer from him. Assuming he'd gone for a walk or just didn't care that there had been a verbal war going on downstairs, I shrugged off the idea of talking to him about it and marched into the bathrom. It wasn't until I started lathering shampoo into my hair that I started shaking.

I kept my eyes open, despite the suds that fell from strands of my hair and stung like hell. My eyes clouded up from irritation, but I kept going, washing the day off of me. The gunshot, the treatments, the morgue, the kindness and hostility alike from Zim. What was his deal, anyway? He had no right to throw me around like that. What a jerk. Go figure, Gaz, I told myself. Go fucking figure.

The shower washed off only so much. When I got out and threw the robe back on, I was still shaking from the expierence at the hospital. More than anything, I was angry at Tak. She was at fault for everything, and I had to come up with some way to get back at her, help or no help. I towel-dried my hair as my head swam with thoughts of how I'd enact my revenge on that Irken bitch, and started narrowing them down as I padded back down the hall to my room, where my eyes immediately fell on my blood-stained clothes in the corner.

Still fuming, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I put on a black t-shirt, a knee-length, sturdy black pleated skirt, and leggings of a shade just lighter than my hair. I retied my pigtails, put on some socks and black sneakers, and grabbed my portable stereo. I also put a pair of daggers in a belt I secured through the skirt's loops.

In my room, there is a trap door in my ceiling, which I have used many times to evade my brother's various nonsensical rants. When I first discovered it, I was too stupid to think of putting a ladder there to make the ascent to the roof easier, and I still have a scar on my hip from my first-ever attempt––I'd put two chairs on top of one another, and the top one fell on me when I lost my grip––to prove it. When I was eight, or maybe nine, I don't know, I stole a small stepladder from my dad's lab and hid it in a corner. Now, whenever I need to get away from whatever, I take it out and climb up onto the roof. With my new height, however, I was able to just reach up and open the hatch, and used my desk chair to give myself a lift up onto the roof.

We have a rather oddly-shaped roof: the majority of it is nearly like a weird dome, but a part of it is flat, and that's where Dib usually goes to pick up waves of paranormal activity. I usually yell at him about that, saying that he's strange enough, so why bother looking beyond our house. He wasn't out there on that particular night though, and in gratitude of that, I sighed.

The roof was mine.

I set the stereo down and turned it to a hard-core rock station, where they have enough brain cells to know how to play good music, like Bloody Nails Melissa and a good handfull of domestic and international metal and symph bands. A song by the name of "The Way You Like It" was just coming on, so I took advantage of the moment as a good beginning.

I stood up and cracked my neck to either side, then flexed my hands and cracked my knuckles. I really had to work off some steam. Tak was gonna pay for what she did. _Nobody _tries to kill _me!_ The consequences would have to be dire.

Now, I have played video games for a great portion of my life, so one would think that I'd have little or no physical skills. Wrong! On the contrary, video games have been more than beneficial to my senses and abilities. I've learned and have become more skilled in martial arts defense without ever taking a single class, and, though I don't tell my brother, I'm developing a very acute sixth sense, so I'm able to tell when somebody is behind me or beside me, trying to catch me off guard. (The _reason_ I don't tell Dib, by the way, is because, if he found out, he'd inevitably test me for extrasensory powers, and never get off my back about ESP/paranormal shit.)

Another thing I should mention is, contrary to what I am sure to be any reader's belief, I did care what would happen to us. I mean, I almost died. I didn't want that to ever happen again, or for it to go any further than that_,_ if you know what I mean. That said, I just felt it obligatory that I practice my fighting skills so I could give Tak a fair fight when we would at last meet in battle.

I secretly hoped, as I began exercising my art, that I could come up to the roof every night until the end of the week, since that was when Tak was allegedly planning on calling for reinforcements. Of course, a part of me said, "Oh, come _on,_ Gaz! You've gotta fight her sooner than _that!"_ That was, of course, the voice of reason that I ignored, so you can bet that I was really pissed when I found out that it was right.

I _hate_ being wrong. Just thought I should say that to clarify whatever opaque ideas of me that you may, at the moment, possess. So, get them out of your head, _now._ Consider yourself forewarned.

So, anyway, there I was on the roof, practicing offensive and defensive moves. After about a half hour of standard physical tactics, I pulled the daggers out of my belt and swung them around in my hands, gripping them strategically near the hilts.

I know what you're thinking: Why the _hell_ does a girl of such an impressionable age own a pair of daggers? Well, first of all, I'm not under any false impression, I know what they can do; I'm not _stupid._ I've been subject to so much shit in my life, even at such a young age, that it just doesn't bother me. Furthermore, I did not buy the daggers. They were gifts. My aunt sent them to me a while ago while she was traveling abroad. I've never met my aunt, nor do I know if she's my dad's sister or my mother's sister. I just know she somehow exists. I don't even know her name. In any case, the daggers were a gift from her.

The daggers themselves are incredible. Neither has a sheath, for they are mainly for ornamentation, but the hilts are wrapped in leather and adorned with Gothic design. The blades are slender and well balanced, crafted of some kind of steel I can't place, and hand-forged to perfection. They have the perfect weight, and are easily maneuverable. The dagger for the right hand is engraved with the Kanji symbol for "daybreak:" _"ariake,"_ and the dagger for the left hand is engraved with the Kanji symbol for "nightfall:" _"higure."_ I guess my aunt got them in Japan. I've never cared to look up much on their origin, but I will say this: I've never seen another pair like them.

This was the first time I'd ever actually been able to hold and control them both at once, one in each hand. They matched my grip rather impeccably, so I quickly got used to their feel. Soon, I was able to swing them around smoothly in my hands, and execute moves with aid of the daggers. I figured out stances which could put me on the offensive, and positions in which a thrust with a dagger would not be lethal to my opponent.

Everyone gets homicidal thoughts in their heads at least once in their lives. Well, I've maxxed out _that_ number. Still, no matter how much I hate someone, no matter how much I want revenge, I could never be able to bring myself to kill anyone. Killing is barbaric and stupid, and it solves nothing. People say "war is hell." No, war is _stupid,_ and it _becomes_ hell when a bunch of people with no common sense engage in a primitive ritual, giving in to their inner, bloodthirsty tendencies without even giving a thought to what forms of devastation they are about to unleash. People who kill are idiots, and people who kill for pleasure are even worse. Why they even want to kill is beyond me, but some people are definitely sick: there's a chemical imbalance in their heads, and they're just plain ignorant.

I, for one, am most certainly _not_ ignorant, and could therefore never have a weak enough moment in which all traces of my superego are overrun to the point that I could kill. Killing is cheating in a self-defense situation, and is always, as I have already emphatically said, stupid.

That in mind, the reason I practiced non-lethal strikes that night on the roof should now be patently clear, or so I should hope. If you don't understand, then you have my utmost sympathy for your being so freakishly inept.

Another thirty minutes passed as I practiced with the daggers. I then set them aside and decided to end my 'stress-relief-slash-goddamn-I'm-irked' session with form and technique practice.

Okay, yes, I have a remarkably strong sixth sense, but, no, I did not have any inclination of what I has about to encounter. As I was practicing, my right fist was stopped in mid-strike. I froze, and stared at the hand I'd apparently just punched into. I looked up.

"Mind if I join you?" Zim asked, grinning.

I pulled my hand away from his without hesitation. "You are _such_ an asshole," I said, meaning it a lot more than would be hinted in the way that I said it. "Get away from me. What do you want?"

"Just to spar with you," he answered, sounding all too innocent about it.

"Are you kidding me?" I scoffed. "I'm not gonna fight _you;_ you'd snap me in half!"

"I'll go easy on you, I promise."

Okay… that did it. When someone says that to me, only one thing clicks as the actual meaning of the phrase: "You're a girl, and girls, by reputation, are fragile and unskilled fighters, so I could take you, but I'll be nice." No, nuh-uh, not me. People _evade_ me now, knowing of my hot temper, my potential, and my strength and agility.

"Don't you _dare_ go easy on me," I warned, "or I'll make your life agonizingly miserable."

"Deal."

Evanescence music began playing on the radio, and I recognized the song as "Haunted." I was not about to lose a friendly battle while one of my favorite songs was playing, _that_ was for sure. Of course, it was debatable as to just how loosely the term 'friendly' was, in this case, being used.

My strength being in my defensive strategies, I let Zim attack first, naturally wanting the upper hand. Boy, was that stupid of me. For his first move, he quickly dashed behind me, grabbed my right hand, and pinned it behind my back.

"Hey!" I cried in alarm.

I tried to punch him in the face with my left hand, but he grabbed that one, too, and pinned _it_ behind my back, putting me in a rather awkward position. Not wanting to resort to the "well, he's a guy, just kick him _there"_ approach this early in the game, I quickly devised another: I shook my head furiously, slapping Zim pretty hard across the face with my pigtails. He gave a startled yelp and loosened his grip on me, giving me ample opportunity to break free.

I threw a punch, but Zim quickly snapped out of his daze and blocked me, twisting my arm around and throwing me to the ground. I picked myself back up and got as close to him as I could in order to execute a few frontal attacks. I got maybe one hit in, but it didn't even faze him.

"Is this all you've really got?" he taunted, taking my chin in his left hand and jerking my head up to look at him. He grinned slyly; even his eyes were teasing me.

"Let _go!"_ I shouted, kneeing him in the ribs.

While he was recuperating, I backhanded him across the face. Zim growled, yanked me in by the arm, and dealt the strongest blow that has ever hit me. I screamed and gingerly fingered my jaw, where he'd punched me. I knew it would most likely leave an enormous bruise. I popped my jawbone back into place and lunged at Zim.

Before I could fully deal an attack, Zim grabbed me around the waist with only one arm and sent me flying backwards again. I landed hard on my left elbow, and the wound from the bullet started to sting.

"Had enough yet?" Zim asked. I looked up at him, wincing. He looked _fine._ He wasn't even sweating! Nothing I did had caused him any pain!

"How can you still be so calm?" I wondered, still speaking in a harsh tone. I shakily stood up and gathered my wits. "Haven't you felt a thing?"

"Some of your hair got in my eyes," Zim sneered. "That was a little uncomfortable."

"You bastard!" I shouted, rushing toward him again. "What _are_ you?"

Zim smirked and hit me with an upper cut. I fell again. "I'm only human," he said darkly, his low, raspy voice cutting into my ears. He cracked his knuckles and readied himself. "You said so yourself."

_Oh…_ _shit,_ I thought. I had no idea I'd cause something like _this_ just by saying something like _that._

"If you're human…" I panted, "why don't you _fall_ like one!" I then did a perfect low kick, finally bringing Zim to his knees.

Of course… it had no effect. "You need to work on your technique," Zim taunted. He then hoisted me up by the neck with his right hand. Once we were standing, he held me over his head. "I could break your neck right now," he said, grinning, "you know that?"

"I… don't… _care!"_ I spat. I bit his hand, causing him to let go (with a cry of pain… finally!), and darted away.

I spun around when I was about ten or so feet away from him. He was still in shock, rubbing his hand, so I figured I'd go for a high kick. I took a few steps back for accuracy, then propelled myself forward. I can get some pretty good air when I jump, so I leapt off the ground with ease and extended my left leg. I aimed straight for Zim's head, feeling that I had a perfect advantage. I just _knew_ I'd get an accurate blow in.

I thought wrong.

Just before I could introduce his face to my foot, Zim grabbed my foot and effortlessly spun me around. I hit the ground hard on my back just as the words _"I won't let you pull me down"_ were sung on the radio. The wind was knocked out of me, and I took in several gulps of air without feeling a thing. I could still hear, though—and not just the rushing of blood in my ears, which was quite loud—and my ears told me that my impact had jostled the radio, and I heard it crash onto the ground below. So much for that.

Zim walked over and stared down at me. "Now, since you don't seem like you're gonna be going anywhere anytime soon," he said smugly, "I suggest you hear me out."

I still couldn't breathe, and I was too concentrated on that to try tuning him out, so I had no choice but to listen to whatever he was about to say.

"I don't know what you're doing to me," he said, glaring at me with piercing eyes, "but I don't like it. You humans are really interesting, you know that? I've been subject to every sort of hell for the past few days; I know how you think, I know how you feel. I _don't_ know what's happening to me, but I know that _you're_ the cause. I have to get back to normal before this new feeling consumes me, or I'm afraid I won't have any desire to change back _anyway._ You saved me from Tak's contraption, Gaz, so that must be why I'm comfortable talking to you. But, Gaz, you're making it worse. If I give in now, I'll be of no use to you and your no-good brother at all. Stay away from me, or you'll kill us _all._ Your planet will be at the mercy of Tak. Think about it."

He turned to leave, muttering, "Stupid human, indeed…"

I felt my breath come back; I took a delicious breath of air, then scowled and propped myself up on my elbows. Before he could leave, I kicked out with my right leg and tripped Zim.

He fell flat on his back. "I guess I deserved that," he remarked.

Ignoring the sharp pain shooting up and down my spine, I stood and set my left foot on Zim's chest. I leaned down onto my knee. "You deserve a lot more than _that," _I told Zim unemotionally. "Just _tell_ me what your problem is, since you seem to be filled to overflowing with them, and _then,_ maybe, I could _gladly_ stay out of your way. Although… you know, as much as I am _ever_ appreciative of your winning advice, it would _also_ seem that _you_ can't seem to keep yourself from staying away from _me._ You have some issues, Zim."

Zim frowned, then grabbed my leg and flipped me over his head with enough force to get himself back onto his feet. "And you're a _bitch,"_ he taunted.

I kicked him hard in the stomach with both feet, then tripped him again.

I sat up with my legs crossed, coughing a little to catch my breath. Zim groaned and sat up, rubbing the back of his head. We were both a little winded, so neither of us showed any interest in continuing the fight.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" I demanded. "I haven't done _anything_ to you!"

"Bullshit!" Zim retorted. "If you _haven't,_ then why the hell is this _happening_ to me?"

"What?" I wondered.

"I don't _know!"_ Zim shouted as a response.

"Well, why in God's name are you blaming _me,_ then?"

"Because I––"

Zim suddenly stopped shouting and lowered his gaze. "Because I've never felt this way before," he said. "I have no idea what this is. I'm… I'm actually… _scared."_

"Why?" I asked, surprised at his sudden change. "How do you feel?"

"Alone," he answered, looking at me again. There was sadness in his eyes. "Betrayed. Empty."

"So you _do_ know how you feel," I guessed.

Wrong again! I was _off_ today!

"No, I don't," said Zim. "I just… oh, never mind. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Zim tucked his knees up, then cast his gaze skyward. He held up his right hand and studied it contemplatively, turning it over and back. Then, he clenched it into a fist and leaned back, staring up at the night sky.

"Everything is so different here," he said, smiling just a little bit. "I'd never felt wind before… isn't that amazing? I'd never seen snow or rain, I'd never seen a blue sky, I never knew there was a planet that spoke more than the one universal language…" He paused, then continued in a more solemn tone. "I'd only ever felt hate and obedience, diligence and failure, impudence and greed."

As he spoke, his brown eyes glittered, and tears began to form, but refused to fall. In that moment, he won my sympathy again. As someone who only recently figured out what crying felt like herself, I saw where he was coming from this time. You can't fake that; you can't fake pain that gripping. Whether or not his mind had been altered to get to this state, I did not know. All I knew was that, human or Irken, what Zim was telling me was real, and it was eating him up to say it.

"After this moment, I may never be myself again," he said sadly, "but I know I'll suffer if I don't tell you. I don't know what this feeling is," he continued, turning to look at me. He heaved a sigh, and that was when I realized... he was confiding in me. I had the feeling I was the first person to ever hear this kind of spiel from him. Was I okay with that? Too soon to tell. "I'm human. I know I am, and I hate it. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. When I look at my hands, I try to convince myself that they're not mine. When I look in the mirror, I want to believe that my reflection is just an illusion. I want nothing more than to just get my life back… I want nothing more than to be Irken once again, but… whenever I look at you, I… I just want to be human."

My eyes widened. I didn't know what to think at this point.

"You make me feel so… different," Zim went on, actually sounding rather happy about it. "I tell myself, if I were human, I could be on your side, I could be with you. I know that, once I'm Irken again, all of this will be over and gone, but if I remain human, I'll eventually forget all that I once stood for. I don't want to lose myself, and yet I don't want to forget this feeling I have. Why do I _care_ about you so much all of a sudden? What kind of emotion can change someone like this, just because of a strong feeling for another person? Why does my heart race whenever I look at you? Why can I not express all that I'm feeling in words? It's never happened to me before. Why now? What is it?"

I gulped. "Is that… _really_ how you feel about me?" I had to ask.

"Yeah," Zim admitted timidly. "Why?"

"Because, it…" I began in reply, "I think it's _love."_

_ "Love?"_ Zim repeated, giving me a skeptical look. "I've heard that word used many times. Humans use it in a sort of… well… comfortably intimate way, don't they? And it's always said when two are together… and then they usually…"

Zim's eyes widened, and he suddenly looked very embarrassed. "Our… our conversation on the couch," he began nervously. "Something drove me to tell you what I thought of you. After that, I lost touch with myself. What did I do to you?"

"Well," I told him, "you almost kissed me, but you didn't."

"And _that…_ that's what…" He gulped. "Does that mean that I..?" he started to ask.

I noticed, at that moment, that we were a lot closer than I'd initially calculated. My heart started to beat faster, and I took a deep breath. If I had disliked Zim at any point in the evening, I forgot all about it, for this passage of time. His confusion was likable, even sweet (another word I never use); his words and expressions were honest. I knew I'd been falling, too... I just did not know how far...

Zim sat up on his knees and held a hand out to me. Almost unconsciously, I took it, and he drew me up to him. He undid my pigtails and ran his hands through my hair. He was so mindful about it, too... his fingers worked through the strands of my hair just so; he was careful not to let a wisp fall out of place. It was amazing how much he'd changed. The care and honesty with which he was presently treating me made me forget the harsh battle we'd just fought. It even made me forget that he wasn't really a human.

"It really does look better when you wear it down," he said kindly, looking at me in a way that nobody ever had before.

I wanted to say "Thanks," but it got stuck in my throat.

"Gaz…" said Zim quietly, his brown eyes gleaming, "can I..? Just to see what it's like?"

I nodded, still battling the lump in my throat.

Zim leaned in closer. "So _this_ is what it is…" he whispered, mainly to himself.

"Are you going to… are you gonna kiss me?" I managed to ask, the traffic jam of words backed up finally allowing those to pass through.

"I think so… but first I have to tell you something I never knew how to say before."

"O… okay…"

Our eyes locked, and nothing else seemed to matter but this one moment.

"Gaz, I.…" said Zim, tilting my chin up slightly, "I _love _you."

Time meant nothing. The breeze that had formerly surrounded us ceased. Our pasts were both momentarily forgotten…

...And we kissed. It was a sensation I'll never forget, as long as I live. I was filled with an indescribable warmth which instantaneously thawed every inch of my normally cold-hearted interior, every frigid thought and feeling seemed to simply melt away. For the time being, I forgot who I was. My true nature was dismissed and was forgotten. _All_ was forgotten.

I'm sorry I cannot relate much in regards to the physical feeling of the kiss itself, for it truly _is_ impossible to put something like that into words. Clichéd as it may sound, it's true. I always used to think that those "oh, I just can't describe it" things were just lame, sappy, overused fallacies, used to provide colorful filler in place of an otherwise unwanted or meaningless anecdote.

Well, I guess this was just my night for being wrong, huh?

What I _did_ know was true, however, was that I loved what was happening, I loved this feeling, and I loved Zim.

Even now, I can try reliving exactly how the whole thing went. The sensation is gone, but the actions and the feelings are there. It was sweet, I know that much, and I knew that much as it was happening. He was being so very gentle, and the kiss started out light and small; it was a first for both of us, after all. Once we'd both realized that this was something, something good, something new, something exhilirating, we wordlessly agreed to continue. Wait: I can recall one thing: warmth. That's all. It was just... _warm. He_ was warm.

The best part of it all was that he was there: Zim was _physically... there._ I'd been more or less alone for so long, having shut myself away from the world once it seemed obvious that my parents had decided Dib and I weren't worth it, or whatever; even my budding sibling bond with Dib was terrifyingly new. I'd only really had _me_ for so long, but now, here _he_ was. It was incredible. Someone, for the first time in years,_ in years,_ had told me that he loved me. And I just... melted, I guess. I fell right into the whole moment. I let him kiss me, I returned it, I let him hold me. I let myself go. He didn't take advantage of me or anything, not in any human way, not in any stretch-of-the-imagination Irken way. He just held me; his lips locked with mine, his hand kept my chin up, kept us connected.

The longer we shared this moment together, the less unnatural it seemed. It felt comfortable and pleasant… something I never thought I would ever experience. I used to think that love was unnecessary, and only led to uncertainty and pain… but now I saw it in a different light. Love now seemed to be a life essential, synonymous with being. It seemed uncanny that I, of all people, should feel like this. Though my initial point of view on the topic would eventually become the more realistic hypothesis, I will always remember how I felt that night.

I would later come to realize that the reason Zim and I loved being together was because we hated each other so much. We hated each other so much that it was _funny._ When we saw the humor in it, our similarities became apparent, so it became a hate so ridiculous that we couldn't help but love each other for it. I know it sounds stupid, but that's _exactly_ the point! We despised each other to the point that the stupidity inherent in the relationship was enough to make this the _strangest_ love-hate incident in all of history.

Before I knew any of this, however, I did come to realize something. Zim was becoming more and more human, and it was partially my fault. At that time, I think even _he_ forgot that he wasn't really human. Otherwise, I realized, this probably wouldn't be happening.

It was, though, and I could tell that it comforted him to a point. Even when we finally set everything back to normal, not even Zim could deny the impact that night had on our lives. It was that night that changed it all, and nothing would ever be the same.

– – –

Sleep came peacefully and easily that night. Though a part of me couldn't believe or even begin to fathom what had just happened, another part savored the warmth I still felt inside of me. True, my heart was beating unnaturally, and my breathing was a bit staggered, but the only sensation my body chose to feel was the light, welcome pressure left on my shoulders, hands, and face, where Zim had held me only moments before. If this was love, I realized, why not welcome it into my life? I felt rather unlike myself… but yet I'd never felt so wonderful.

I'd only slept a few hours before I was roused suddenly by an alarmed cry of terror––not quite a scream, but close enough––coming from downstairs. _Oh, God,_ I thought, sliding out of bed. _Please, let this not be a negative revelation of what just happened..!_

I walked quickly but silently out of my room, disturbed by the fact that I could hear my brother snoring… halfway down he hall. "Sick…" I muttered. "What an idiot."

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I found Zim wide awake, sitting up on the couch, clutching his chest and guiding his breaths in and out shakily, the way he had when he was first adjusting to his human body. "Get ahold of yourself…" he was whispering to himself reassuringly. "There must be an explanation for it… th-there _has_ to be…"

"An explanation for what?" I wondered.

Zim looked up at me and gulped, flushing red. "Um… I…"

"Come on," I grinned, sitting on the recliner. "Just tell me. If you _love_ me, I'd imagine you _trust_ me."

Zim looked scared. "I…" he began, then hung his head. "Yeah… that's right. Right…" He sighed. "The… the Tallest…" he said.

"Oh," I said. "Worried about what they'd think if they saw you like this? If they even knew?"

"If what just happened really _did_ happen… they _do_ know." Zim's voice trembled as he spoke. "I saw them; they were _here!_ Or, it was more like _I_ was _there,_ but… somehow they found out! I don't know, I..."

"Don't worry," I assured him, laughing a bit. "It was just a dream."

"A what?"

"Yeah, you know. A––oh. Right. If _sleep_ was new to you… wait. You… didn't dream last night or the night before?"

Zim turned his head away. "I didn't sleep for too long last night… or much at all the night before," he told me. "I was too nervous… ugh, I know it sounds pathetic, but it's just so hard getting adjusted to being human." His mood suddenly changed. _"Being human!"_ he nearly shouted, holding his head. "I hate it! I hate _saying_ it! And now the Tallest know! Goddammit, they _know!_ And––argh! That phrase! _'Goddamn!'_ I've never used it before. I've never _heard_ it before! Why do I keep using these weird phrases? What the hell is _HAPPENING TO ME?"_

I stood quickly and took his hands in mine. "You're human," I said as calmly as I could. "I know it's awkward, and I'm sure you wish you could will it all away, but for the time being, you're human, Zim."

"No kidding," he replied. There were tears in his eyes again, but jut as before, they did not fall, even when he blinked. I still wonder why that was.

"Look," I continued, kneeling, "what you just saw was a dream. That's normal. Dreams are manifestations of what your subconscious wants to see."

"How do I know I'm not dreaming _now?"_ Zim demanded.

"You can feel my hands, right?" I asked.

Zim looked down, confused, and made it so his hands were holding mine. With utmost care, his fingers curled in on mine, and an oddly satisfied smile appeared on his face for a moment. A second of remembering himself caused him to become solemn again, and his grip on my hands tightened. He then nodded.

"In dreams," I said, "you can't feel anything physically."

"Oh." I could tell he wanted to cry, but something was holding him back. "So… the Tallest…"

"Were never here," I finished. "They don't know."

Zim bit his lip. "I… I really do want to speak to them," he confessed. "But not like this."

I smiled. "We'll get you back to normal. Don't worry."

Zim feigned a smile of his own. After a pause, he said, "I never noticed…"

"Huh? Noticed what?"

He unfurled his fingers and placed his palms flat against mine. "How much smaller your hands are than mine," he said, finishing his thought. "It's really odd."

"Hey, yeah," I agreed. I noticed for the first time, too. From what had happened in Tak's base on Friday, I knew how strong his grip was… during the incident he was practically crushing my hand in his own. However, it wasn't until he mentioned something that I noticed the difference in our hands. I'd have to say that his hands were twice as big as mine, but they weren't rough at all, despite his incredible strength.

"Gaz…" he said, drawing me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"My body is human, but I keep on changing… _inside._ I can't help wondering if the person I am now is who I've always been, or if it's a side effect of… well… _humanity."_

I grinned and stood. "Well, I'm not sure," I told him, "but I like you the way you are now, to be honest. You're the first and only person I've ever been able to really talk to."

Zim looked up. "Really?"

I nodded. "Really. Now, do me a favor and take your shoes off. I'm pretty sure Dad wouldn't like it if he knew you kept on putting your shoes on the couch."

Zim rolled his eyes. "Fine."

He kicked off his thick black sneakers and then pulled his socks off and stuffed them in his shoes. "I hate wearing socks," he stated blatantly. "Socks are possibly _the_ most uncomfortable article of human clothing."

I did not mention my bra.

As he continued to look down, Zim's eyes widened. "Are those my _feet?"_ he wondered, raising an eyebrow.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"No, really," Zim went on. He crossed his left leg slightly over his right and studied that foot. "Weird…" he mused. "You know, I don't think I ever even saw my feet when I was an _Irken,"_ he said. "I had to keep my boots on all the time. The change in footwear was odd enough, but… woah…"

I laughed again, and Zim grinned and shrugged. "Hey," he said. "It's foolish, but it's true."

"Mm," I replied. "Look, I really am tired, so––"

"Oh, right, sorry!" Zim apologized quickly, standing to turn off the light next to the couch. "You go back upstairs. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine," I assured him, "really. Oh, can you leave the light on until I get to the top of the stairs? I like the dark and all, but I just don't want to trip over anything. Like GIR, for instance," I added.

Zim laughed and obliged. "Understandable."

I smiled up at him. God _damn,_ he was tall! "Hey," I asked randomly, "how tall are you again?"

"Uh… well, I didn't believe the computer, so I checked again, but it was right." He grinned uncomfortably, and nervously ran his right hand through his thick black hair. "I'm exactly six feet tall."

"Wow…" I said. "That must be hard getting used to."

Zim shrugged. "Yesterday, and _especially_ the day before, I got really dizzy just taking one step, but I've really gotten used to this height. I actually kinda like it."

I grinned. "I didn't grow all that much," I found myself saying. "I'm only 5'7" without my heeled boots on."

"Ah," said Zim. "That explains why you look a little shorter."

"Uh-huh…"

"Oh, God," Zim said, suddenly looking very concerned.

"What? What's wrong?"

Zim tenderly brushed his hand over the part of my jaw that he'd bruised. "Did… did _I_ do this?" he asked shakily.

"We were _fighting,_ Zim…"

"I know, but…" His eyes shone as he examined the slight bruise. "I didn't mean to…" he whispered. "Gaz, I didn't mean to hurt you!"

Our eyes met, and––God knows why!––I felt an overwhelming desire to hug him. Before I could stop myself, I did. I don't even know why. I just did. Zim didn't question it at all. In fact, he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close.

"I'm fine," I assured him. "But," I added as an afterthought, pulling away, "I think I may have broken my stereo."

"Eh?"

"When you flipped me down," I remembered. "I hit the roof really hard, and the stereo was jostled off."

"Hah, really? Sorry about that," Zim grinned nervously. He paused for a second, then smiled impetuously and suggested, "Wanna go out and look for it?"

"What? That's ridiculous," I laughed.

"I know," he shrugged. "Come on," he urged, "I feel bad about it. Let's go look for it."

Before I could second-guess the whole dumb idea, I shrugged my agreement, and Zim held a hand out to indicate, "you first." I smirked a little, finding it a little strange that he'd have even a grain of chivalry in him, but he'd been surprising me all over the place lately, so I didn't question it. So I left the house, with him right behind me, and we stepped, both barefoot, onto the walk, and then the front yard, well-lit by streetlamps and a rather large moon overhead.

The temperature had dropped a little, but neither of us cared. We walked, slowly and silently, around to the back of the house, where we did indeed find the shattered remains of my portable stereo. I thought for a second to give it a proper burial (I get attached to my electronics), but remembered that, assuming we got back, it soon would not matter either way; it wouldn't be broken once we reversed the warp. I said none of this aloud to Zim, but I did express that I didn't feel the need to clean it up.

I expected him not to care, either, but he squatted down in front of it. After a beat, he scooped up a handful of mangled knobs and wires, and stared at the glinting broken electronic device in the moonlight. Just when I was about to ask him why, he stood again, and rolled his shoulders back a couple times, indicating a slight discomfort in his back.

Aha. He was thinking about Irken PAKs. I wondered how easily those broke. His wasn't broken... just melted down, somehow, buried inside him. How easily could _that_ be destroyed? Was that in Tak's plan at all?

Before either of us could get too uncomfortable about that thought, Zim cautiously set a hand on my shoulder and suggested we go back inside. I nodded and said, "Sure," before catching on that he was being cautious due to my earlier growlings about hating to be touched. That night, though, I didn't mind. I could change, too. I let myself smile just a little, then asked him to follow me back inside.

When I turned around, to make sure he was still following me, I noticed on Zim's face a rather foreign expression: one of both guilt and longing. Mixed in, too, was confusion, which seemed to sum up most of what he had confided in me on the roof. 'Alone,' 'betrayed,' and 'empty,' I remembered, had been his words exactly. He must have been desperate to end that, to heal that. For someone once so headstrong to be so lost... I wondered if, perhaps, Zim's human temperament was something that had been long repressed in the Invader. Something indomitable enough to change him so drastically now.

Even I felt something similar, I realized. Over the past few days, I had thought more about my family situation than I had in previous years. I had realized how close as siblings Dib and I really were, and how much I really longed for a tight family, deep inside. Zim and I both had voids we wanted to fill. Different as we were, our needs were painfully similar.

"Huh?" I wondered as Zim stepped a little closer toward me. "What's wrong?"

"Oh! Do I look—?" he began, getting self-conscious. "Sorry, I just..."

"Zim, what?"

He took in a little breath, then groaned and nervously ran a hand through his hair again, still walking toward me. Once directly in front of me, he lowered his hand and looked me in the eyes. "I'm still getting used to all this," he admitted. "But, what happened on the roof—"

I grinned. "It's fine," I said. "I told you, we were fighting, so it doesn—"

"Not that," Zim said quickly. "The other thing."

"Oh..." I realized, lowering my tone. "The, um..?"

"Yeah," said Zim, getting a bit awkward. Before the air between us could become too unbearably stale, he took one step closer, and then, again being more than careful, rested his hands on my shoulders. A nervous chill went through me, but I kept my eyes on his, curious as to what would come next. He fascinated me, at the very least. It still amazed me how gentle he could be. He proved this again when he brought his right hand up, and held it lightly against my cheek. "This might sound weird," he confessed, slowly working his hand to my chin, where he curled his fingers in and tilted my head up, "but..." Still being cautious and courteous, Zim leaned in and rested his forehead on mine, so that his next words were really for my ears only. "When I'm near you, like this... I feel human. And it's fantastic."

"Zim..." For a few seconds, I was completely caught up in it. Still riding on the high of what had happened post-spar on the roof, I bought into his desperately welcome embrace. The rest of me, however, caught up fast, and I felt a twinge in my chest before anything more could happen. Thinking fast, blushing to beat hell, stomach in knots, I stopped Zim and pushed him off. "No," I said, half-heartedly. "Just wait. Hold on. No."

"No?" he wondered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"Well, I just... shouldn't we talk about it or something?" I made up on the spot, backing away a little. "I don't know! Like... what the hell, I don't know!"

Zim ticked his head to the side, and wrinkled his nose in confusion. He shifted so that his hands fell much more lightly on my shoulders. "Sorry," he said, sounding sincere, "I... um, is something wrong?"

"I-I don't know," I admitted, furious with myself and with this whole crazy situation, "you tell me!"

"Eh?"

"I mean... do you even know what you're doing right now?" I demanded in a whisper.

"Of course I do," he said, persisting.

"No, seriously!" I hissed. "You aren't usually this nice, you don't usually care about anything like this—"

"I know."

"Then what the hell?" I wondered.

Zim caught my gaze, and very gently shifted his weight, and therefore the way he was holding me. His arms draped lightly around my waist; his smile warmed but scared me. His smile was so different. For one thing, now it existed. It wasn't a sneer, or a smirk, or a haughty grin. It was a smile. A real, pure one, meant only for me to see. "I know I'm different," he said, calmly, "and I don't care."

"What're you talking about?" I had to know. Inside, more questions boiled up: _What's going on? Why me? What the hell? What's even happening right now?_ "Zim, seriously, I'm confused. Just... what do you mean?" In my frenzy, I pushed away from him completely, once again addled by the fact that I'd let someone be in contact with me for so long. "How do you _really feel?"_ Nice. Not knowing the answer for myself, just push him; great ida.

Zim's eyes followed me, and he spoke out of pure determination: "Gaz, I'm sorry, I... look, I know that a lot of things don't make sense but something about this... does. It just does. This feels... right. Somehow. It feels good! It feels... it feels... I... I like it. I like it! I do! I like this, I like feeling like this, I—like... you, and..."

"Stop it, come on!" I insisted. "You're freaking me out."

"Now that's strange," Zim observed.

"Huh?" I wondered. "What?"

He grinned, a little cocky this time, and said, "You being freaked out. By anything, let alone something like this."

"Well, even I can get ooged out," I mumbled. For security, I wrapped my arms around myself, and, oddly enough, continued to speak my peace. "I just... I don't like physical contact much, okay?" I repeated. "I don't get it."

"You were fine up—" Zim began, nodding up to indicate the roof.

"I know!" I groaned, bowing my head. "I don't know what's going on. This sucks, this fucking sucks! Maybe you don't know it, but humans change a lot as they age. I'm ten. I'm only ten years old but I'm pretty sure all this shit really is what hits girls at fifteen. I'm not fifteen! I shouldn't be, but I feel like it, and it sucks, and I really just want to get back, and I'm fucking tired and you don't want to be hearing all this, and—"

"It's fine," Zim assured me, as he stepped back up to me again.

"Why are you doing this?" I found myself almost shouting, before remembering that waking Dib up right now would be the last thing any of us needed. "Just stop it, I never asked you to—"

Zim furrowed his brow, steeled himself, and took hold of my wrists, as I had held my hands out in an attempt to make him back off. I yelped out of muscle memory from much earlier in the evening when he'd attacked me and repeatedly shoved me into the wall. This time, though, his motives were different, which he made clear right away.

"Gaz, let me touch you!" he said, half a demand, half a desperate plea, as he tightened his grip on my wrists without the action being hurtful. "Sounds like you like shutting the world out. Let me in."

"Why?"

Zim took in a deep breath, and when he let it out, he looked much more relaxed. "I've accepted the way you make me feel," he told me, being absolutely serious. "Just let me try to give something back to you. I'll probably suck at it, but can you at least let me try..?"

I bowed my head, the events of the past few days swirling around in my head to the point that I felt sick. Zim's grip on my wrists loosened, and, just as I was about to start sorting out every insane moment that had led up to this particular moment in time, he rested his head on mine and drew me closer. "Why?" I felt myself asking again.

He sighed out on a low hum, which resonated inside me and gave me a funny sort of chill. Then, almost unexpectedly, he gave me an answer: "So we can help each other through this. We're both in a weird place right now. Let's just help each other out a little, okay?"

Before I could get much of a thought in, Zim bravely made a move and kissed me again. It took me only a second to settle into it, and return it. After a second, he brought up one hand and touched it to my cheek. My jaw, where the bruise was, throbbed a little, but I was able to ignore it. This made sense. He was right, I had to admit, and if this was the answer to make this ordeal Tak had thrust us into bearable, then that was fine; more than fine.

After the kiss, we held each other in silence for a few minutes, and then Zim leaned down and kissed the sore part of my jaw, as if to heal it on contact.

"Gaz… are you okay?" Zim asked softly. "Did I really hurt you?"

"No," I assured him. "I'm not hurt." Whispering, I added, "You could never hurt me…"

I rested my head comfortably on his shoulder. I could feel him breathe. Tears started to form at the corners of my eyes, and I let them softly flow. This would have been the perfect moment to tell Zim that I loved him, or at least something he really wanted to hear. I wanted to tell him so badly, but for some odd reason, I just couldn't. Something was holding me back, not allowing those words to form.

Why couldn't I say it? Just three simple words: I love you. What the _hell_ was holding me back? Maybe I just wasn't ready. As far back as I could remember, I'd had no reason to say it to anyone, not even family. Love didn't exist for me, or any of us. Perhaps I just wanted to be more certain before I could bring it up. Zim seemed sure of himself, but, then again, he always did. If only I could have a shred of his confidence.

After a while, Zim pulled away and said, "You told me you wanted to go back to sleep. Don't let me stop you."

"Oh, right," I remembered.

Zim smiled, and ran his right hand through my hair. "Thanks, by the way," he said.

"Sure, no problem."

I forced myself to walk away, but before I could ascend the stairs, I turned and said, "Hey, Zim… um… this might be a weird compliment for you, but…" I cleared my throat. "You are honestly the nicest person I've ever met."

Zim's eyes widened as he took in the words. Then, his eyes became soft and he smiled yet again. "Thank you," he said.

I blushed and went back upstairs.

I lay awake on my bed for a while, thinking about all I'd just said. _God,_ I thought. _You'd think we were actually…_

I sighed. Zim was changing so much, and I was really falling in love with him. Not just because he was good-looking (which––dear God––he was... but that's neither here nor there, eh?), but because of his incredible personality.

I could relate to him almost entirely. He would listen, he would console me; I would do the same. He was so calm and sensitive, even if he did have a few flaws. He really was the nicest person I had ever met. Out of all the people on Earth… who'd have thought?––Zim! _Invader_ Zim!

"No…" I whispered to myself. "He's… he's not 'Invader' Zim anymore."

This was true. He definitely was not the same person anymore.

It wasn't Invader Zim I was in love with. I was in love with Zim as he had become. Kind, honest, caring, strong, and so incredibly…

_…human._

– – –

The next morning, I learned the meaning of the phrase "a rude awakening." Answer me this: have you ever woken up because you couldn't breathe? Okay, maybe, but I doubt the reason for your suffocation was in the form of a robot eating tacos.

I woke up to find my mouth clogged by robot ass and my nose being pinched shut. My eyes snapped open and I sat upright, letting out a cry of alarm and shoving my assailant off of my face.

"HI!" GIR greeted me happily, louder than necessary, waving from his new position at the foot of my bed.

"What is _wrong _with you?" I yelled.

"I GOTS TACOS!"

"That _does _it!"

I got out of bed, grabbed GIR, and tromped down the stairs. The others were already awake and dressed, eating breakfast in the living room. I must have looked quite a sight: hair loose and matted in an ersatz ponytail, my nightshirt, being too big, slipping off of one shoulder, revealing my bra strap (I slept in my bra, okay?), my boxers sliding a little down my hips, revealing my underwear where the shirt failed to cover, my legs bare and outspread, my left hand clenched at my side, arm stiff, my right holding GIR by the scruff of the neck (or whatever it is that a robot has), and my eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. Blood rushed to my cheeks, accentuating my fury. It was my most apropos entrance ever.

"Oh, great," I heard Dib say.

I ignored him.

"If _you…"_ I hissed, directing my attention at Zim, "can't keep… _this… thing…_ under control… so help me, God, I… will… destroy you! And I don't mean that in a figurative way. I will completely and utterly annihilate both you _and_ your stupid little cohort! I'm edge right now… if he irks me off… just _one more step…_ I will have your _head!"_

Zim and Dib exchanged glances, then looked back at me, but said nothing. I clenched my fist tighter until it trembled, then dropped GIR, spun around and stormed back up the stairs. I went into the bathroom, slammed the door, and turned on the shower. It wasn't until I got into the shower itself that I realized I had to take my clothes off first. Smart one, Gaz! Kudos!

So, I stripped, and, without aiming, threw my clothes out. I heard a heavy "splash!" and realized that they had landed in the toilet. I groaned, but otherwise just didn't care.

I mistook body wash for shampoo, then again for conditioner, so I ended up washing my hair about seven or eight times. Then, I realized that I'd used up the last of the body wash on my hair, so I used the evil bar of soap on which I'd slipped during Wednesday's shower. To avoid confrontation with it again, I threw the soap into the toilet along with my clothes.

_Huh,_ I thought as I got out of the shower; _maybe if I flush it, they'll get washed._

I made no effort to fish my clothes out of the toilet, just wrapped myself in a towel and walked down the hall to my room. I wrung my hair out a little, and began to dress. I thought I'd pulled on a plain black shirt, but then realized that I'd put it on backwards. I fixed it and noticed that the front bore an interesting red design. I grabbed a kilt-like red and black skirt, and, not giving a damn, wore black flats with the outfit. "Eh," I muttered upon realizing that I didn't put socks on. I slapped a cuff on my right wrist and a watch on my left, called it good, and went downstairs.

I walked into the living room to notice that neither Zim nor Dib had moved. Or, if they had… no, wait. There was no way they had. I looked over at Zim and immediately felt bad for yelling at him, especially after what had happened that night. I told myself I'd try to remember to apologize to him later.

"Your hair's all wet," Dib pointed out.

"So it would _seem," _I said, raising an eyebrow. "Where's the taco freak?"

"Out," Zim offered. I caught his eyes directly, offering a silent apology for being bitchy; he caught it, and, all within the span of about a second, we both dismissed everything in the interest of playing it natural around Dib.

"Out," I repeated sardonically.

"Buying taquitos," he added.

"Indubitably," I commented.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. A puddle started to form around me from the water dripping from the tips of my hair. Zim took a bite of muffin. I coughed. Silence.

Then, the phone rang.

Zim choked. I tried not to laugh (it didn't work).

Dib rolled his eyes and got up to answer the phone. "Hello..?" he said into the receiver. "Yeah… yes, it is. Why? _…What?_ Um… well, he _is,_ but who… o… _kaaay._ Fine! Okay! Hold on! Jeesh!" Holding the phone out, he looked at Zim awkwardly and said, "It's… for _you."_

"Huh?" Zim asked, making a face. "Why would anybody––oh, great. It's probably Tak." He sighed and stood up, took the phone from Dib, and leaned against the wall. "Yeah, what?" he asked the caller. Then he winced and held the phone away from his ear. I could hear shrieking. That did it. I _had_ to listen in.

I walked out of the room and picked up the kitchen phone. Not surprisingly, Dib joined me. We positioned ourselves so we could see Zim and listen to his conversation at the same time.

"Where have you _been?"_ a woman's voice screamed on the other line. "You had me worried _sick!"_

"Would you stop screaming?" Zim half-demanded.

"Don't you tell _me_ what to do!" the woman ordered sternly. "Why didn't you tell me where you were going?"

"What are you _talking_ about?" Zim yelled, getting irritated. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just hang up and end this damn conversation!"

"Don't use that tone of voice with _me,_ Zim, or I swear I'll––"

"You'll what? Who _is_ this? How do you know me?"

"What a thing to sa––"

Great. _Perfect_ time for the kitchen phone to give out! Dib motioned to me, and we walked back into the living room. Dib leaned against the back of the couch, and I stood nearby with my arms folded and my weight mainly on my left leg.

"I'm not _implying_ anything!" Zim was shouting at the phone. "I'm just… _no, _I don't… of course not! I… _what? 'Ground'_ me? What is… _who is this?"_

Suddenly Zim's eyes widened, and he gulped nervously. He shifted his gaze to look at the phone, but otherwise didn't move a single muscle. He was frozen for a second, not knowing what to say. Zim grit his teeth, then found the will to speak.

"M… _Mom?"_ he asked nervously, his voice trembling.

"What the _hell?"_ Dib and I shouted simultaneously.

Zim shot us a stern look, then went on talking on the phone… now in a calmer, almost _meek,_ tone of voice.

"No, no…" he said, still shaking a little. "I just… uh… no, I just didn't recognize your voice, that's all. Yeah… yeah, I'm at Dib's… yes, this is where––_no!_ Gaz is not a_––_" He sighed angrily. "Yes she's 'still' a virg… I slept on the _couch_… I don't know! Um… uh… chemistry project… yes, it takes four days, I… yeah, maybe more, so I'll probably be here for the… no… why? …No! No, I'll walk. _…What_ about GIR? How did he… oh, fine. Okay! Okay! Goodbye!"

He hung up and tossed the phone onto the sofa. "Jeesh," he said. "I'd better go. Something is _not_ right."

"I'll drive you," Dib offered.

"Nah," said Zim. "I'd rather walk."

"Then we're going with you," Dib insisted. "It… might be a trap."

"Suit yourselves," Zim shrugged, walking out.

"Why?" I asked Dib once we were alone. "Why not just let him go? Don't you _hate_ him?"

"Don't think I don't know, Gaz," he replied scathingly, not answering my questions, "because I _do._ I need to have a talk with you later."

Before I could comment on that, he left. I, of course, followed.

We quickly caught up with Zim, who was instinctively walking in the direction of his base. "What was _that_ all about?" I asked him, referring to the telephone conversation.

"Who knows?" he answered, rolling his eyes. "Something I did in the 'past five years' must have been updating my robot parents. For all I know, it's a glitch. I mean, yeah, that was the voice programmed into _her,_ but… jeesh! To _call_ herself my _mother?"_

Dib and I decided not to say anything on the subject, and just kept on walking. The walk from our house to Zim's base takes only about ten minutes (during which the sun helped dry my hair a bit), so it didn't take that long until we arrived at a familiar dead-end stretch of houses and apartments.

Abruptly, Zim stopped in his tracks. "Is that…" he began, gaping at the building directly in front of us. "No… I _know_ I didn't make any modifications on the _exterior!_ I…" Running his hands through his hair nervously, Zim continued panicking. "Oh, man! This just isn't possible! That is _not_ my _base!_ Or, maybe it is, but… GAH! How did this _happen?"_

I could see why he was nervous: in place of Invader Zim's base of operations, built conspicuously in an ultra-suburban cul-de-sac, stood a normal enough, two-story house. It was the same color as the base, but blended in with the apartments, without any discreditable wires protruding from it. It seemed kind of like our house, only bigger and with a flat roof. It still had a gate and walkway, but the number "777" replaced the usual "men's room" sign on the front door, and the lawn gnomes were gone. A maroon car was parked close by.

Zim gulped and timidly approached the house; Dib and I stayed a safe enough distance behind him. Zim raised a hand, shaking as he did so, to ring the doorbell. Before he could, the door opened and a woman stepped out. She had tousled, bluish hair, she wore an apron over her loose white t-shirt and blue jeans, and she was holding a large wooden spoon in her left hand.

"Welcome home, son!" she greeted cheerfully, a broad smile crossing her face.

"Um…" said Zim, his finger still frozen in the air next to the doorbell.

"You _call_ me next time you just up and leave!" the woman scolded, holding the spoon threateningly in Zim's face. "You're just lucky I'm not as strict as your _father_ on this sort of thing, Zim! I don't know _what_ he'd say! You're lucky he's away on business, I can tell you _that!"_

"Um…" Zim said again.

"And what were you thinking, letting GIR out on his own with no leash?"

"Um…"

"Oh, well! It's over and done with now! Have you had breakfast?"

"Um…"

"Hah! Silly me! It's almost lunch time, isn't it?"

"Um…"

"Land sakes, Zim! Say something!"

"Um… h-hi… Mom…" said Zim, feigning a grin. "S-Sorry I… didn't… call… heh…"

"Well, at least you've learned, now, haven't you?"

"I… guess… so…"

"Well, that's good to hear!"

The woman turned and faced Dib and me. "Hello, Dib!" she said giddily. "Hi, Gaz! How are you?"

"Um…" we both said.

"You three are quite an odd bunch!" the woman laughed. "No wonder you all get along so well!"

"We _do?"_ I asked, accidentally speaking my mind. Dib punched me lightly on the arm, implying that I had better shut up. However, such an action could not go unnoticed. I slapped Dib on the shoulder. He hit me again, and I quickly returned the gesture.

"Well, you two seem busy," the woman lilted, still smiling. "Zim, you can call Dib about your science project later. Right now, I have a loaf of bread in the oven, pasta on the stove, and lasagna in the microwave, and I will not let it go to waste!"

"Isn't that… a little… _excessive?"_ Zim asked, giving her an odd look.

"Cooking is my _life!"_ the woman chirped. She held the spoon above her head. "This," she trilled, "is the key to the world of culinary utopia! It is the oar that guides me along seas of gravy and pudding; it is the staff that aids me up the mountains of ham and down into the valleys of flan; it is––"

"It's a goddamn _spoon!"_ spat Zim.

The woman furrowed her brow, and once again threatened Zim with her omnipotent utensil. "You have insulted the spoon," she scolded. "Your impudence will be noted! Now, get inside."

She stepped aside. Zim just stared at her. "You scare me," he stated flatly.

"You get your ass in this house _right now, _young man, or I will punish you in ways previously deemed inhuman!"

Zim cast a glance over at us. I shrugged. So did Dib. Zim slapped a hand to his forehead. "See you guys in school tomorrow, I guess," he said, reluctantly stepping into the house.

Before retiring into her kitchen empire, the woman came up to me and grabbed me by the collar. "Are you still a virgin?" she hissed.

"Uh… y-yeah," I stuttered, completely and utterly confused.

"That's a good girl!" she smiled, letting me go. "It's not that I don't trust you, Gaz, but I just can't have _anyone_ taking advantage of my son! And no dating until his father is notified! Now, you two run along! Have a nice day!"

With that, she went into the house and closed the door behind her.

"Well," said Dib. _"That_ was the strangest thing I've ever seen."

"Another one for the list, anyway," I clarified.

After another slight pause, Dib frowned and turned to leave. "Come on," he said sullenly. "I need to talk to you."

I sighed, turned, cast another look at the house, then followed my brother up the street. We went into town, not speaking to each other. I hoped that Dib hadn't, somehow, witnessed my revoltingly affectionate saliva-exchanging display the night before. I put a hand to my mouth, trying to ignore the lasting sensation.

_Stupid Gaz,'_said a voice inside my head. _How many times thus far have you lost or demoralized yourself? You don't want to be in love. Stupid girl._

"Stupid girl…" I found myself saying.

"What?" said Dib.

"Huh? Oh, uh… just… ah… singing," I covered. I hummed a few random bars of nothing, knowing Dib would never catch on with his music illiteracy (read: distaste).

Dib rolled his eyes, but made no comment.

After a little while, he stopped in front of the same café I'd gone into on Saturday. "Let's talk in here," Dib resolved, "since Dad'll be home soon, and I _really _don't feel like talking to him right now."

"Eh," I said with a shrug.

So, in we went. It was fairly empty, but we had a seat in the far corner nonetheless.

"Listen," said Dib firmly as I slid into the chair across from him. "I know what's going on, and it has to stop."

"What do you mean?" I asked honestly.

"Don't give me that," Dib warned through clenched teeth. His lower voice, which had settled itself completely from the night before, sounded too commanding for my comfort. Hearing him give me this lecture in the more mature tone his voice had taken on was enough to give me momentary pause. "Trust me… I know what's happening. I saw you…"

My heart skipped a beat, and I blushed. "Y-you what?" SHIT.

"He's an _alien,_ Gaz," Dib snarled, "he's _not human!_ At the moment, he's very confused! I hacked into Tak's files again… she's basing her attacks on emotion. She's taking advantage of the easily swayed or misinformed human subconscious so that her attacks regarding overall terrestrial Invasion will go seemingly unnoticed. Zim is her main target. You know that, right? By turning him human, she's fixed it so that _he _will be the one most affected by these internal attacks. I'm not saying this to threaten you, Gaz, but if you let him love you, he'll forget himself!"

"How do I know you're not making this up?" I demanded in an agitated tone of voice. "How do you _know_ he loves me?"

"First of all, you just said it right there," Dib blatantly pointed out.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath.

"But the main reason I know is because he told me," Dib went on.

"What?" I asked, eager to find out more.

"Yesterday," he began, looking doleful, "I found out just how precious life is. I refused to leave you, even when I was ordered away. I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want to think of living life without my little sister. When they told me you were dead, I… well, a greater part of _me _died, too. I found myself later talking to Zim. D'you know what he said to me? He said 'If I still had my PAK, I'd drain all its energy in order to bring her back. Even if I died,' he told me, 'at least _she'd_ be okay, and that's all that matters.'"

Dib sighed. "Zim said that, since you died to protect him, he'd remain human as a sort of tribute. I held him to that, but I don't know how truly serious he'll be on the matter now that we know you're alive. Or, at least, I _didn't._ Last night… who's idea was that?"

"His," I answered truthfully, "but why do you care?"

"I almost lost you once, Gaz… I don't want to lose you again."

"Dib, you're my _brother," _I groaned, "not my _guardian!_ Are you telling me I can't––"

"Gaz, he's an _Irken!"_ Dib nearly shouted. "If he were a human, I wouldn't care! But I can't have my own sister having ties with the enemy!"

"But he said he wanted to be human!" Dib's words strangely had elated me. It was good to know that Zim was honest in everything he'd been saying to me, and kind of reassuring to hear that he wanted to stay human. Hopefully that was still true, I noted to myself.

"What he says and what he does can be two completely different things!" my brother insisted. "I don't know _what_ to think after what I chanced to see last night, so we should just stay safe, and not take too many risks!"

"You… you're not making any sense!" I spat. "Besides, how _dare_ you spy on us?"

"GAZ!" yelled Dib, slamming a fist on the table. "Gaz, listen to me," he continued, lowering his voice. "Don't you see what's happening? We've got to fight Tak before we get too attached to this place! We're _all_ slipping farther away from reality! We've got to get home, and _soon!_ Forget our bargain with Zim… let's just focus on resetting the flow of time, okay?"

"But we can't unless Zim's Irken, though, right?" I pointed out.

"No, he's still part Irken," Dib affirmed, shaking his head. "I read in Tak's file that he'll remain that way until blood is drawn, thus releasing the PAK. That's why we have to defeat Tak as soon as we can."

"You just don't get it," I said coldly, turning my head to one side.

"Gaz, _look_ at us," said Dib. "Look around you. This is _not_ the way everything is supposed to _be._ If we stay here, the entire _universe_ could suffer from the imbalance. We've lost _five years_ of our lives, Gaz. Are you willing to live out your years knowing that?"

My eyes watered, out of sheer stress and exhaustion, and I turned back to look at him. "No," I whispered, blinking to tame back the tears that were diluting my eyes, "but, I… I _love_ him, Dib… and, when we get back home, it will all be back to however normal it was to start. You two will be fighting again! He's better like this!"

"I know how you feel, Gaz, but––"

"But _what?"_

"She's been doing this from the beginning," Dib said. "Tak must be feeding off of it."

"What are you _talking_ about?" I questioned.

"I loved _her_ once," Dib told me, a hint of guilt in his voice, "back when I thought she was human. It's my fault that she knows the main human weakness."

"You _what?"_ I shrieked, upstarting. I clapped my hands over my mouth, hoping I hadn't been too loud. "That probably means she'll target _you_ next, right?" I hissed in a quieter tone.

"Now do you see why we have to get home as soon as possible?" Dib asked rhetorically. "Wouldn't that suck if she got me on her side?"

Suppressing the will to comment negatively on that, I said, "Let me just get home to put my hair up, and then I'll gladly kick her ass."

Dib smiled. "I thought you'd say that. Let's go."

So, we got up and left, ignoring the odd looks we were getting by the management for going in and not buying anything. On the walk back home, I started to get a sinking feeling that something bizarre had just happened. It didn't feel life-threatening or anything. Just… not right.

Well, I found out just how not right it was when we got back to our house. Another GIR hole adorned the front door, for starters, which was bad enough. Then, we got in the house to find GIR on the sofa, staring at a blank television, and practically nothing behind him.

"Hey, Gaz?" said Dib.

"Yeah?"

"Didn't we used to have a kitchen?"

"Yeah."

"So… where is it?"

"Um…"

We both looked at GIR, who waved and greeted us with an innocent "HI!"

"Where's our _kitchen,_ you filthy little robot?" I hollered, stomping over and snatching him up.

"I don't know…"

"Why is our kitchen _missing?"_

"Maybe a moose did it!"

"A moose," I said, unimpressed. "A _moose?"_

"Uh-huh!"

"Why are you here?" I demanded, hoping that I'd at least get _that_ out of him.

"I was makin' sandwiches!" GIR announced, holding up a ham sandwich for proof.

"So you _were_ in our kitchen," I deduced.

"Uh…"

"What'd you _do _to it, you stupid piece of metal trash?"

"I was just makin' sandwiches, and then the oven got mad and went_ boom,_ like this: BOOM!" GIR demonstrated, throwing his arms up and letting his sandwich scatter everywhere. A piece of ham landed on my face.

I growled angrily, a wave of fury washing over me as it so often did. "I'm gonna KILL YOU!" I shouted, really meaning it. I dropped GIR and pelted him with the ham that had so rudely introduced itself to my face.

Having done that, I traipsed up the stairs and into my room. I changed my shoes––boots instead of flats––into which I safely tucked my daggers (just in case). I tied my hair back into another makeshift ponytail, slid on my favorite skull necklace, and headed back down the stairs.

"You ready?" I asked Dib.

"Yeah, hold on." He walked over to the stairs leading down into the laboratory. "See ya, Dad!" he called. "We're gonna go restore the flow of the space-time continuum!"

"That's nice, son," Dad replied.

"It's a life-threatening mission!"

"You two have fun."

"By the way, our kitchen was blown up by Zim's robot!"

"That's too bad."

"We're leaving now!"

"Don't stay out too long."

"So," I wondered as we walked out of the house via ex-kitchen, "could we classify ourselves as latchkey kids?"

"I used to ask myself that," said Dib, "until I realized we could classify ourselves as just about anything but normal."

"Sounds about right," I concurred. "D'you think GIR will blow up any more of the house?"

There was an explosion just then… _of course._ "Just keep walking," Dib advised.

I was worried that it might have been our house until I heard someone scream, "Holy shit, your gerbil just spontaneously combusted in my car! You're gonna have to pay for that!"

"I didn't know gerbils _could_ spontaneously combust," I said as my brother and I walked on.

"Well, we learn something new every day, don't we?" Dib returned.

"How'd it make the car blow up?" I had to ask.

"Maybe it was covered in propane," shrugged Dib.

"Could be," I agreed.

Leaving it at that, we continued our walk to Tak's base. Something about Tak's base I should probably bring to your attention: it was, to use blatant terms, huge. Yes, it _looked_ like a normal enough house, but it was about ten feet taller than any other house on her block. Tak told us herself once, that the best thing about humans is that they are oblivious. They don't notice. Even if they _do_ notice, they just don't care. It's generalities like that which make me embarrassed to be a human. Not being the stereotypical, carbon-based, primitive _idiot,_ I _did_ notice, and I _did_ care, but I didn't see _why._ If she does all her work underground, why the _hell_ does she need such a behemoth of a base? I decided not to answer that, which is probably one of the better decisions I have made in my life.

One of the _dumber_ decisions, however (ranking right up there with my near-fatal attempt at being a human shield), was wearing a short skirt. To any lecherous pervert reading this: no, you will not get a Marilyn Monroe sequence, and, furthermore, my ass remains shrouded. Ha, ha. So, no, it wasn't the wind, it was wearing a skirt in general while wearing tall boots with daggers very, _very_ visibly sheathed in either one. Yeah, standing outside a house big enough to be a hotel, on a crowded street, with daggers on my person, was a commendably bad idea.

I didn't realize it until Dib and I nearly reached the front yard of Tak's base, and a kid said to me, "Hey, lady, what's that in your shoe?"

I looked down and noticed that he was pointing to my boot with one hand and holding a hot dog in the other. "Um…" I said, blinking and silently cursing myself for not having thought _this_ one through. "It's just ornamentation… yeah."

"Gaz," said Dib, "what are you ta––oh, Jesus."

"Thanks for taking such audible notice, moron!" I hissed at him.

"Oh, dear _GOD!"_ a lady with my juvenile prosecutor screeched. I'm guessing she was his mother, or something. The one thing I've noticed about mothers lately which makes me glad I don't know mine is: they tend to scream a lot. And this one was very good _at_ it. "That girl has _knives_ in her boots!"

Maternal screaming techniques are also, as I have noticed, very effective if the desired effect is anarchy, riot, or just plain, pure and utter mayhem. This was an example of the mayhem-inducing scream, as the entire block went into a boisterous, primitive state of panic. I would probably have found it thoroughly amusing, had I not been the source of it all.

"Oh, come _on!"_ I yelled at everyone. "Just shut up!"

"GIRL WITH KNIVES!"

"They're not even knives!" I shouted. "They're daggers!" I took them out, which was an even stupider move than any of my preceding ones. "Come on! How stupid are you? Can't you––oh."

"Apparently not as stupid as _you,"_ Dib muttered as five police cars screeched up to us, sirens blaring.

I froze and put the daggers behind my back. An officer approached me and demanded, "All right... give me the daggers."

"Daggers?" I asked placidly, forcing a nervous grin. "What daggers?"

"The ones behind your back!" the officer bellowed, getting into my face. His breath smelled of pork and cat shit.

"Oh, _these_ daggers?" I said as innocently as I could, holding them up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dib slap a hand to his forehead.

"What's your name?" the officer demanded.

I almost gave my name, then quickly made up a pseudonym. "Um… Ga… uh… Jenny?" I stammered, hoping the name sounded believably innocent.

"Huh? Johnny?"

"Jenny!"

"Oh, right," said the policeman. "I was gonna say; Johnny's an odd name for a girl."

"Presumably," I concurred, praying he'd go away.

He didn't. "All right, Janet…"

"Jenny."

"Whatever. What's a girl like you doing with these weapons, Jenny?" asked pork-and-cat-shit-breath.

"Uh, well… I, uh… was delivering them?" I tried. "Cuz… uh… I work at the… uh… armory?"

"We don't have an armory."

"Well, then, this must be the wrong town, so… ah… I should go now, and…"

"Drop the daggers, miss," the foul-smelling officer ordered, grabbing his gun.

"Drop your _gun," _I retorted.

"Drop your daggers!"

"Drop your gun!"

"Miss, I am _warning_ you..!"

"What? Go ahead and shoot! I've survived a gunshot before!"

"DROP YOUR DAGGERS!"

"NO!"

"Fine!"

He fired.

"Oh, Christ!" I screamed. I didn't think he'd actually _shoot!_ I ducked, and the bullet hit Tak's doorbell.

"I _told_ you, I'm not in the _mood!"_ Tak shouted from inside.

The door of her base opened briefly, and MiMi burst out. She sat in the middle of the dispute, then narrowed her gleaming red eyes, focusing on the policeman. She leaped onto him, knocking him to the ground, then attacked the rest of the force, piling them, one by one (but at a deadly pace), on top of the hapless porkbreath man. She then somehow zipped around them fast enough, and with enough precision, to handcuff them all together in one giant ball of flesh, hair, and uniform. Finally, with a flick of her tail, she sent a blast at them, which sent the flesh ball rolling down the street, then again down a nearby hill.

MiMi turned and faced us, narrowed her eyes, and darted back into Tak's base.

"Wow," said Dib, speaking for both of us.

I blinked and shrugged it off, and tucked the daggers back into my boots. "You know," I said, standing erect, "if we _don't_ beat Tak today, we're gonna have to do our homework."

"Speak for yourself," Dib shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me."

_"You're_ gonna lay off on your _homework? YOU?"_

"Nah. Already did it."

"I should've known," I snorted. It would figure. I'd be up till God knows what hour doing math and physics (not to mention procrastinating until the _very_ last minute to do the stupid art project), and my stupid brother would, as always, rub it in my face. Argh. Why does he have to be such a genius? It bugs me.

I checked my watch. "Well," I said, "it's 1:30. We'd better do something, as long as we're here."

As if on cue, Tak opened the door and stared at us. Well, glared at Dib, and gasped when she saw me. "Aren't you dead?" she asked, looking me up and down.

I bit off a hangnail on my index finger. It bled. "Nope," I concluded. I sucked the blood out of my finger to ease the flow. It was a tiny cut, anyway.

"Fascinating," said Tak, unimpressed. "Now, I know you want to fight and all, so…"

All of a sudden, she glanced at my finger, which still bled slightly (but not enough for me to really give a damn), and she gave a lurid grin. "He'll come for you, won't he?" she mused. "It's bound to happen." Looking back up at me, she purred, "By all means, come right in. I'd be glad to take you both on, in as just and fair a manner as you would have me do."

"Um… it kinda… loses the effect when you invite us _in_ to battle," said Dib.

"Fine. Shall we set a time, then?" asked Tak. "Be here at six, or never come back at all."

"Four-thirty and it's a deal," I said.

"Done."

With that, Tak sincerely slammed the door in our faces.

"Why four-thirty?" Dib asked as we started to walk back to our house.

"Look, I don't wanna be up _all_ night!" I answered, glaring at him.

"Fair enough," he decided.

"So… should we tell Zim?" I wondered.

Dib looked over at me, then away again. "Zim's an Irken," he gravely stated. "He's the enemy. We can't keep treating him like an ally. Okay?"

"Okay," I growled. Stupid war. Stupid love. Stupid _me._ "Stupid girl…" I sang quietly, so that Dib couldn't hear me.

"Oh, that's right," Dib said abruptly, "our kitchen blew up."

"Let's take the long way home," I suggested, "so that _Dad_ doesn't blow up at us on the off chance that he hasn't noticed yet."

"Good idea."

Of course, the 'long way' I had spoken of _did_ include the route near Zim's base. Well, _house,_ now, I guess. God knows why, but I secretly hoped that, maybe, we'd run into him. That, as my luck would have it, did not happen.

"So, what do we do if we _don't_ beat her tonight?" I wondered out loud.

"We just keep trying, I guess," Dib replied.

"You know," I said, "this weekend has been really unproductive and kinda monotonous. We've been to Tak's base _twice:_ there's the monotony, and all we've accomplished is Zim turning into a human and me almost dying."

"Yeah," Dib agreed, "so what do you suggest we _do_ about it? Just give up?"

"No, no, I'll fight," I told him. "I just don't want to go back there again."

"Well, good move, then, telling her we'd go back and take her on at four!"

"Four-_thirty," _I corrected.

"WHY?"

"I don't know!" I admitted.

"Well, great. That's just great."

"I'm really getting sick of this place," I declared after a while. "I don't like it."

"Oh?" said my brother. "Why?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "I just don't. It's weird, and I feel like I _have_ to fight. I hate it! I can't just leave well enough alone, like I usually do, oh, _no…_ I have a _purpose!_ It's stupid!"

"Interesting take," said Dib, "but I don't see what it has to do with Tak."

"Neither do I, but it felt good to say it anyway."

"So, where would you rather fight?" Dib asked, changing the subject.

"Huh?"

"Aside from Tak's base," he clarified. "Where would you rather fight her?"

"Eh, I dunno," I shrugged. "Someplace open, maybe. An alley, or on rooftops or something, I dunno. Just not in her base. She's got too many advantages there."

"Plus, you're sick of the place," Dib added.

"Right," I agreed. "Plus, I'm sick of the place."

"Mee-yoo," I heard. My heart skipped: I thought I was going to hear the word "Miyuki" spoken again. That's the _last_ thing I'd have needed. I looked down. A striped kitten was rubbing up against my leg. "Mee-yoo," it said again. "Mew, mee-yoo…"

I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Why'd you get so jumpy about a stupid _cat?"_ Dib wanted to know.

"Didn't know it was a cat," I admitted.

The cat sniffed at my boot and bat at it. "Me-_yooo!"_ it yowled. "MIEW! MIEW!"

"What the hell is wrong with this thing?" I hollered.

"Excellent work, there, kitty," I heard someone say. The next thing I knew, my hands were being yanked behind my back and restrained.

"HEY!" I yelped. "What the f––"

I whirled around. Porkbreath was back, looking disheveled.

"What's wrong with you?" Dib shouted at the officer. "What's she done?"

Officer Porkbreath grinned. "You're Membrane's kids, aren't you?" he sneered. God, he had halitosis! "I'm placing miss 'Jenny' here under arrest for the possession of weaponry, and for false identification."

"That's bullshit!" Dib and I shouted at the same time.

And it was, apparently, bullshit that landed me in jail. Dib, too, for God knows what reason.

"Nice going, _'Jenny,'"_ Dib grumbled. We sat back-to-back on a bench in a cell in the county police station, neither of us wanting to face the other.

"Oh, shut up," I muttered.

"Why'd you have knives in your boots in the first place?"

"Daggers," I corrected.

"Whatever. _Why?"_

"Aunt What's-her-name sent them to me a couple years back."

"Aunt _Tavi?_ The _crazy one?"_

"Is that what her name is?"

Dib stood, and I adjusted my position so I could speak to him. "Well, this is just great," he fumed. "How are we going to get out of here?"

"Bail?" I guessed.

"BY WHOM?" Dib shouted. _"Dad_ won't pay it; he barely even knows we _exist!"_

That's when the power went out.

"Great," I heard Dib mumble. "That's just _great."_

I heard shouting and gunshots and the yowling of policecats _(why cats? _you ask… I have no clue…), then a shrill upsurge of laughter. A hand grasped my wrist and I screamed, trying to writhe free. I heard a heavy rumbling sound, and then I was dropped to the ground.

"Will you follow me..?" someone sang through the shadows.

There was a sudden flash of light. I averted my eyes, then picked myself up and blinked to see just what had happened. I looked around and saw that we had somehow been transported to the roof of the police station, which was pretty damn high. There was a slight mist in the air, but the sky was clear enough to see by the starlight. I checked my watch. 7:38 PM.

I spun around and saw Tak. It figures. She had her back to me, and she was working with a holo-screen in front of her which MiMi was projecting. Tak continued to sing... it was the song I'd heard on the radio the night I'd realized I could play the guitar. Fuck. I'd actually liked that song, too.

"Close my eyes," she sang, "and sing for me... follow me..."

Tak craned her neck to look at me and smirked. I suddenly felt weighted down, and I looked at my hands, to see that I'd somehow become chained to the rooftop.

"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted.

Tak turned back around and started singing again. "Follow me down, oh, follow me... You're nothing, nothing without me... Nothing in life at all..."

The holo-screen vanished, and Tak turned around. My chains fell off, and I rushed over to Dib, whom I'd spotted only seconds prior, about fifty feet away.

"So," said Tak, circling us, "it begins again. I'm tired of fighting you. Truly, I am."

She held up my daggers.

"How did you––" I began furiously.

"Thanks, Gaz, for the weapons," Tak lilted. "I'm going to need these."

"If you don't want to _fight_ us," said Dib, "why all _this?_ You wouldn't have planned this if you didn't want to fight."

"No, you're right, Dib," Tak purred, sliding the blades of the daggers against each other, "I _don't_ want to fight. And you would know, wouldn't you? Hacking into my computer and all… very nice. I must say, though: did you really believe I wouldn't find out?"

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't been promoted to Invader," Tak explained. "The Armada isn't coming."

_"WHAT?"_ Dib spat.

"Then why are you here?" I demanded.

"I'm on a mission," answered Tak straightforwardly. "I was given a tip at some point in my recent journey, after I'd found the prototypes of course. The Tallest know, of course—"

"I thought they hated you," Dib pointed out.

Tak snorted, as if what Dib had said was the stupidest idea imaginable. "We have resolved a few differences, if," said Tak, "I fulfill my promise to deliver on this particular excursion.

"I was informed of a recent formality," she continued, "during which Zim was deemed a threat to our Empire. He got away somehow, I don't rightly know. All I know is this: Zim is responsible for the death of the Almighty Tallest Spork and Miyuki, and should not have any more affiliation with our current leaders."

_"Zim killed Miyuki?"_ I blurted out. There was something new...

Luckily, Tak didn't pay it any mind.

"So, what are you saying?" Dib wanted to know. "What does this have to do with why you're here?"

Tak looked at my brother gravely. "I," she said, "am here on a mission to rid our Empire of that nuisance once and for all. Besides," she added, more darkly, "I have plenty of scores yet to settle with that bastard."

Dib was speechless, but I cried, "You're not really gonna _kill_ him, are you?"

"No, I've no intention of killing anyone." Her tone was about as convincing as my lies about the daggers had been to the damn cops.

"Then why are _we_ here?"

"It'll be more fun."

"And why the daggers?"

Tak grinned darkly. "Oh," she said, "you'll see." Her eyes seemed focused, and her words were certainly strong enough, but something still told me that there was a flaw in Tak's plan—well, certainly, there was, now that I thought of it: we'd messed it up for her from the beginning. Now she was improvising; if only I'd figured that out sooner. We could have come up with a more solid plan on our own. Tak seemed to have at least figured _something_ out. Whatever it was, I was pretty sure none of us were going to like it.

It wasn't long until I heard GIR cry from a distance, "MUFFIN!"

Tak was suddenly pelted in the head with a muffin, and GIR charged into MiMi. "Whooo!" he squealed.

"Right on time," Tak laughed under her breath. "Let's go, Zim."

A slight wind rose up, and Tak positioned herself to the left of where she had been. I followed her with my eyes, ready to fight if I had to. Sure enough, there was Zim, standing on the next rooftop over. He jumped down a few feet from it and onto the roof we were all on.

He stood up straight and glanced over at me, then back at Tak. "Well?" he asked. "Why'd you call me out?"

Tak approached him. "This is our last battle," she told him. "After this, there will be no more need to fight. Just you and me, no restrictions, right now."

Zim shrugged. "Fine by me," he said. Without warning, he kicked her in the stomach, sending her sprawling backwards.

"Interesting," she remarked, picking herself up.

Her PAK became visible, and she extended the metal spider legs, positioning them in front of her as a four-point laser. She shot a blast at Zim, who ducked, then rammed into her and threw her over his head.

_"Damn_ you!" Tak shrieked, retracting the impressive metal structures protruding from her PAK.

"Listen," Zim hissed, hauling her up by the collar, "this has gone on long enough! I don't know _what_ you're trying to accomplish, but… just… _stop it!_ I want to get things back to normal! Fix this! NOW!"

"FINE!"

Tak broke free of Zim's strong grip and swung at him with the dagger in her right hand. Fucking bitch had my weapons! I remembered a little too late. Zim yelped and dodged the strike, looking extremely nervous.

"Shouldn't we be helping him?" I asked Dib. More than anything, I wanted my weapons back. If Zim and I could fight her off together—I with my daggers and he with his cunning agility—we'd stand a better chance.

"Yeah, probably," Dib answered.

"So… why _aren't_ we?"

"I don't know."

"What the hell?" Zim shouted, dodging strike after strike. I turned my attention back to the brawl. "If you said you'd turn me back, why are you trying to kill me?"

"First of all, I'm not trying to kill you," said Tak, aiming for his left arm.

"Bullshit!" Zim yelled, dodging again and throwing Tak against the side of a taller building nearby.

"Let me finish!" Tak shouted, regaining composure.

"I never _said_ you had to stop talking while I kick your ass," Zim sneered, lunging at her. He aimed with a high kick and knocked one of the daggers away, then pried Tak away from the building and flung her down hard on her back.

"And _I_ never said that I'd turn you back!" Tak retorted, swinging the dagger she still had possession of. She narrowly missed a jab at Zim's left leg.

"What are you _doing?"_ Zim yelped, backing away. "And if you're not planning on killing me or turning me Irken again, what the hell did you mean when you said you'd fix all of this?"

Tak got to her feet and swung (and missed) again. "I said I'd '_fix'_ your situation, Zim," she hissed avariciously; "that doesn't necessarily mean that I'll turn you Irken again."

"Then what––"

"I am going to make you _bleed," _Tak laughed in a conniving way. "I'm going to drain you of the last of your Irken strength!"

"What are you t––"

"It's only temporary, now!" Tak cried shrilly as she swung yet again. "Your damned _PAK_ is keeping you Irken! Well, not anymore!"

She swung again but Zim stopped her arm in mid-strike. He clenched his right hand firmly around her wrist, denying her of dagger manipulation. Two of them glared at each other, both equally full of hate. Then, Tak spoke.

"Look at you," she snarled, not even putting up a struggle. "Just look at you. You're a disgrace."

"Shut up," snapped Zim, tightening his grip.

"You're strong," Tak observed. "Internally Irken… but all that's about to change."

"Cut to the _point!"_

"This human body and your current reality are merely primary elements… a sort of introduction of what is to come." Tak freed herself and readied the dagger. "Get comfortable living in that body, Zim," she shouted, "because I'm about to trap you in it forever!"

Zim was caught off-guard by such a strong threat, and it seemed as though Tak would finally get in a clean blow. However, that was also the moment when I decided that I should intervene.

"Bitch!" I hollered, tripping Tak.

Zim heaved a sigh of relief, and I grinned, feeling a sort of sense of accomplishment. It was always great to beat on Tak, but beyond that, I now felt that I had successfully paid Zim back for his trying to shield me from Tak before. Zim caught my gaze, and nodded to me his thanks. Dib walked over and strategically stepped down on Tak's right hand (in which she held the dagger), thus pinning her to the ground.

"GET OFF ME!" ordered Tak.

"You think I _would?"_ Dib scoffed in return.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Zim demanded of Tak.

"Huh," I snorted, folding my arms. "You won't get a straight answer from _her._ She's done nothing but _lie_ this whole time."

Zim scowled down at Tak. "Is this _true?"_ he barked. I shot Zim a look which of course he was too preoccupied to notice. It was easy to forget, what with his human visage, that he was really something of an idiot. Oh, well. I could do worse.

"Why would I tell _you?"_ Tak spat at him. She leaned forward and did the most bizarre, unexpected thing: she bit Dib's leg.

She must have aimed just above his boot, too, since Dib cried out in surprise and alarm, and stumbled back, allowing Tak to roll off to the side. She scrambled to her feet again and glowered at the three of us.

"Fine," she growled. "I'll tell you the truth. Gaz," she said to me, "I just plain hate you, and you're in my way. Dib," she continued, turning to face him, "I like you. You'd make a great Irken. I'd like to have you on my side, but your stupid sister is holding you back. And Zim," Tak scowled, facing him and narrowing her eyes. "I hate you. The Tallest hate you. Everyone back home hates you. Do you even know why?"

Zim gulped, and the color drained from his cheeks. Sure, maybe he was still a bit stupid, but as a human, I had to give him more credit: he was, at least, aware. The conscience thing, I suppose.

A glint appeared in Tak's indigo eyes. "Ah," she smirked. "So you remember."

"Only..." Zim took in a deep breath through clenched teeth, and lowered his tone. "Only a little. Look, Tak, if this is about the Tallest—"

"Of course it's about the Tallest!" Tak shrieked. "In some roundabout way, it will always be about the Tallest! The Tallest! The Invaders! The Elite! Everyone whose lives have been horribly bent out of shape; twisted because of things _you've done!"_

I was lost, but I watched the volley of Irken information eagerly, hoping I'd get some insight on Tak's real plans, and, therefore, how we could stop or reverse them. "That was a long time ago," Zim tried to reason. "Look, you know, everyone knows, I don't even reme—"

"Then lose it all!" Tak snapped. "This planet will be mine once you're out of the way. I have the Tallest on my side now. I have history on my side, Zim! Everyone wants you gone, do you hear me?" Zim winced a little; he clenched his hands tightly into fists, his anger rising. Still, he did not move. _"Nobody wants you!"_ Tak screamed at him. This was even hurting me. For all the shit I've gone through in my life, at least no one has ever said blatantly that I'm an unwanted presence. Sure, I go to lengths sometimes to _make_ myself unwelcoming and hostile, but to hear that from someone who should, by all accounts, be an ally?

Zim had suggested to me the night before that we help each other out. Now... yes—I wanted to make good on that. Whether it meant being the welcoming committee to his life as a human, or a backer in his decision to win over the Irkens again, I'd do it. No one deserves to be treated the way Tak was bent on breaking him. No one.

Especially not my friend.

...And there it was. That was it. One other thing I'd never known how to measure. First, I'd gained a sibling—now I knew I had a friend. Ugh, what next, fluffy fucking kittens? ...One thing at a time. Having a friend couldn't be too horrible, right? Right?

It only sucked because I knew it meant I'd feel his pain.

And I did, when Tak repeated: "No one in the Empire wants you around! You are to remain here," she snarled. Turning and pointing the dagger at Dib and me, she added, "Alone."

A lump caught in my throat. I couldn't move.

"You two have done nothing but get in my way," Tak snarled, "and now you befriend and aid my sworn enemy!"

"Woah, wait a minute," Dib interrupted quickly.

"MiMi!" cried Tak. Her obedient robot appeared at her side. "Kill the girl," she told MiMi unemotionally.

Just before MiMi could attack, GIR was quick to jump in and knock her to the ground. His eyes flashed red, and he pinned MiMi to the ground. "I never liked you," he said to her. MiMi struck him hard and knocked him to the side. Her eyes narrowed, and she was quickly upon GIR. She extended her claw-like appendage, but GIR dodged and rammed into her with great intensity. Before MiMi could recover, GIR had already struck again. The two robots went on fighting, and GIR, by some amazing chance, was kicking MiMi's ass.

The strange thing was, he was beating her with the same moves with which he'd defeated my "Warped" game character, MiMi. It struck me as much more than odd. I don't think there's even a word for it, the state of shock and bewilderment I was in.

I would have stood there and gaped, but there were other matters to attend to. Everyone else seemed also to be rather amazed at the fact that GIR was beating the shit out of MiMi (not that robots _have_ shit, but… oh well), so I wasn't the only one who did a "that's right, we're fighting" double-take.

"Didn't you just say that you didn't want to kill anyone?" asked Dib, getting back to the main… whatever it was. Battle, argument... it was hard to identify.

Tak rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't _want_ to, but it seems to be the only way I'm ever going to get anything _done!"_

"Oh, come _on!"_

"Fine," said Tak. "Then, I guess, to use blatant terms… I was lying."

With that, she flung the dagger straight at Dib. I wanted to scream, but it stuck in my throat. All of a sudden, another unexpected thing happened.

Zim cast a look over at Tak, then cried out, "Get _down,_ you idiot!" Just before the dagger could inflict any damage, Zim rushed over and jerked my brother down and out of the way. I thought I saw the blade graze Zim's upper right arm, but I couldn't be sure.

Tak started fuming and ignored us for a little while.

Zim and Dib hit the ground hard, both breathing very heavily. "Idiot…" Zim panted. "Why didn't you _move?_ She was about to _kill_ you!"

"I…" Dib started, then swallowed hard.

"You okay?" I asked him, kneeling down beside my brother. My heart was thudding so hard, I felt it in my throat; I may have been speaking a bit too loudly, just to be sure I was still capable of speech. I hated myself for freezing up. My own brother, and I'd just stood there. I looked over at Zim, thanking him without words. Dammit, we were even. Now I owed him one.

"Yeah, yeah, fine, but…" Dib looked over at Zim. "You…" he said slowly and awkwardly, his eyes widening in surprise and bewilderment. "You just… you just saved my life..!"

Zim raised an eyebrow. "I… I _did?"_ he wondered aloud in confusion, still breathing heavily. He suddenly looked mildly unnerved, and tried to cover for what he'd just done. "No," he said, "no, I… I just… that is… I didn't mean… not that I don't…" Zim sighed and held his head in his right hand. "I just saved your _life…"_ he breathed, shaking his head. "Why did I…"

He suddenly jerked his hand out in front of him, looking awfully alarmed. He quickly dismissed whatever was on his mind, and looked back over at Dib and me.

"Well, anyway," said Dib, looking slightly hesitant, "thanks."

Zim's eyes widened, then he downcast his gaze and held his head again. "You're welcome," he mumbled.

I cast a look over at Tak. She was messing with the holo-screen again.

"Gah, what the hell _is_ this?" Zim complained harshly, snapping my attention back over to him.

"What _now?"_ I groaned.

"It's not raining," said Zim, looking over at me, "but…"

"But _what?"_

Zim ran his fingers through his bangs, then drew his hand out in front of him. "My hair's all wet," he answered, "and my forehead…"

"Oh," said Dib. "It's just sweat."

"Huh?" Zim wondered, casting Dib a look. "What's that?"

"You mean you've never broken a sweat before?"

"No. What breaks it?"

Dib and I exchanged odd glances, then looked back at Zim.

Zim made a face.

"And why the hell did it take so long for my breath to regulate?" he demanded of no one in particular.

As I probably should have guessed, the next thing I heard was Tak's impetuous laughter. "I _knew_ it!" she cried triumphantly.

Before I even knew she had come closer to us, Tak hauled Zim up by the collar. Dib and I hurriedly leapt to our feet. For the first time, I noticed a minor scratch on Zim's upper right arm; the shirt fabric was ripped a little, and the mark extended from a shrouded area to just below the sleeve. The dagger _had_ cut him! The scratch was negligible enough, but had some effect on Zim, apparently.

"Tell me," Tak sweetly smiled. "Does the number five mean anything to you?"

"Well, that's how many years you sent us forward in time," Zim tried.

"True…" said Tak, "but, no. Five percent, Zim," she continued, grinning. "Even without my computer's data I can see it in your eyes. You're only five percent Irken now."

Zim's eyes narrowed, and he grit his teeth. "It's a lie!" he shouted, struggling free of Tak's grip. "I know it's a lie!"

"Oh, no, Zim," said Tak in a dark tone. "I'm being completely serious on this one."

_"I don't believe you!"_ Zim yelled. There was something in his tone that told me he was trying more to assure himself that the statement was a fallacy rather than to just argue and pick a fight with Tak. "How did this _happen?"_

Tak once again grabbed hold of Zim. She kept her right hand clenched tightly around his throat, and held the dagger steady by the cut on Zim's arm with her left.

"You weak, ignorant fool," she scoffed. "Giving in to human emotions one time too many… and now this. It would seem as if you didn't even _want_ to be Irken again."

"But I _do…"_ Zim attempted to protest.

"Too late," snapped Tak. "It's time to get what you so rightfully deserve."

(I think my legs were on Tak's side or _something,_ because, once again, I was just frozen. I wanted to intervene, but I just couldn't. Something was drawing me back. That something was gonna pay.)

"Shut up!" Zim shouted at Tak. "It's not true! I'm an Irken! I'm an Invader! I AM––"

"Five percent Irken!" Tak cut in.

She drove the dagger deeply into Zim's skin, opening up the wound. Zim let out a cry of pain. I even felt myself emit a yelp. I knew it—I felt it—he was in true, mortal pain.

"Four…" Tak said.

She slowly began to follow the set cut with the blade.

"Three…"

She'd almost drawn blood.

"Two…"

The dagger had sliced open the wound, but Zim wasn't yet bleeding.

_"One…"_

"Tak, stop!" Zim pleaded, his voice trembling in fear.

"It's too late for that, Zim," said Tak. "When I pull this dagger out…"

"Tak, tell me that you're lying!"

No answer.

"Tak?"

Silence.

_"Tak?"_

A pause. Then, Tak pulled out the dagger.

"Stupid human," she snarled.

Then, without any warning or emotion, she pushed Zim off the edge of the rooftop.

_"NO!"_ I screamed.

GIR, who was about to rip off MiMi's head, perked up. His eyes flashed blue for a second, then back to red. He activated his rocket jets and dove off the building.

Tak dropped the dagger, hung her head to the side, and evanesced.

"Fire escape," Dib said to me after a beat. I nodded, forgetting all about reclaiming my weapons. I didn't even really want them anymore, after what they'd just done to Zim.

We quickly rushed to the other side of the building, jumped down onto the first fire escape landing, and sprinted down the seemingly endless ladders. We finally made it to the bottom, and ran around the block to the other side of the building. It was a small, neglected alley on that side. Every step that I took sent another paranoid shiver down my spine.

I heard Zim before I saw him—his steady cries of pain, which he tried to muffle with little to no success. 'Cry' is rather the wrong choice for a word... a gutteral moan was more like it, escalating right up to a yell, almost a scream. My feet began to carry me faster, which I did not take notice of until I heard Dib say, "Hey, wait up." Usually he was the one doing the investigating, and normally it would have perturbed me that I was investing so much in this paranormal plight, but something kept on pushing me forward.

Finally, I caught sight of him. He was standing, but almost as shakily as he had been on his first night as a human. After another soft groan, he touched his left hand to the skin below the wounded area on his right arm. The action caused him to stagger, and the moan turned into a steady stream of shouted curse words, all of which ran together and some of which weren't words at all, but a mesh of vowels and consonants that served no purpose but to express how much pain he must have been in. His staggering sent him backward, into the brick wall of the building to my left, which he then leaned against; he drew his left hand away from his right arm, which now faced me and Dib, and swept that hand through his already tangled bangs.

"Fuck," he muttered as he slid down the brick wall until he was seated, letting his right arm fall limp at his side. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, _FUCK!"_ he went on, each obscenity growing louder and more desperately stated each time.

We took this moment to approach; I noticed, for the first time, GIR, soundly asleep in his green dog suit a few feet away from Zim, in front of a stack of empty milk crates.

"Zim?" I said, cautiously, as we two stepped forward.

"Hey," he greeted solemnly, keeping his eyes downcast. He shifted to sit cross-legged. I looked at his right arm. Blood trickled down from the open wound, staining his pale skin. The wounded area looked awful. The skin there was raw and red, irritated upon impact with the metal blade—it was gaping, a little, too, which was unsettling. The laceration was deep, and long. Zim had pushed his already ruined shirt sleeve up closer to his shoulder, most likely so the fabric would not irritate the cut any worse than it already was. The long mark stretched from the muscle closest to his shoulder socket, following a jagged, hateful line down across the tricep to the inner part of his arm; it stopped just before it could reach the inner joint of his elbow.

Zim was biting back the pain he must have felt impeccably. Neither my brother nor I had a thing to say, for what felt like eons. The wound was impossible to not stare at.

"Did GIR…" Dib began, obviously searching for a topic of conversation that had little to do with the dagger cut.

"Yeah," Zim replied. "Took a lot out of him, though." He looked over at GIR. "I don't know why he saved me," he continued, still in a somber tone. "I don't know what's making him stay…"

"Are you gonna be all right?" I asked.

"What does it matter?" answered Zim. "I don't care anymore."

"So that's it?" said Dib in surprise. "Just like that, you're going to give up?"

"Give up _what?"_ Zim shot, finally looking up at us. There were tears in his eyes. "I have nothing _to_ give up! _Look at me!_ I'm no different than you."

"Zim, you're not acting like yourself," I observed. This was, I realized even at the time, a horrible statement. I was not the authority on who he was. I was just barely scraping the surface. I was, of course, referring to the Irken my brother had so obsessively chased down for the past couple of years, though Zim was now acting even more lost and alone than he had when I had caught him in more human conversations.

"Oh?" he said. "Well, how _should_ I act, then?" He lowered his head again. "Act… think… live… huh, why even bother?" Once again, he grabbed at his bangs with his left hand and muttered everyone's favorite expletive. Then, with a tiny bit of resolve, he pressed his back hard against the wall and tried to pick himself up. The effort caused him to exert pressure from his right hand—and, therefore, arm—which was not in his best interest; he yelped and sank down again.

"Here," I offered, once again acting on impulse by holding my left hand out to him. "I'll help you up, come on."

"I can do it fine!" Zim insisted.

"Don't be stupid, come on, give me your hand!" I'd been asking for it a lot, lately. When I pulled him from the chamber in Tak's lab—when I tried to calm him down, to explain dreams—now to help him back on his feet again. Reluctant as he had been on Friday night, Zim grabbed my left hand in his. It felt a little rougher, now, than it had before, but still dwarfed mine, to the point that I had to grab his arm with my right hand in order to provide the best support. "There, see?" I said, once he was upright again. Zim was still stewing; he looked angry and miserable. "A little help isn't so awful."

"I don't need your help!" he spat at me. His sudden turn caused me to back off. I knew what he was capable of during mood swings like this. "Who says I need your help? Who says I need you fucking humans at all?"

"Hey!" Dib shouted back, getting defensive. "You asked us to help you in the first place. Remember, back when all this crap started? You were more than ready to team up with us, so don't you go hollering at us now!"

"Dib, kindly shut the hell up," Zim lashed out at him.

"Want me to finish what Tak started and rip that arm off for you?" Dib shouted.

"Hey!" I tried, barking my own voice out hopefully loud enough to be noticed.

No such luck. Zim was provoked, and Dib had actually taken a few steps forward to make good on his threat. Zim—slightly taller, invariably stronger—grabbed Dib by the collar of his shirt before he could get too close, though, and held him a safe distance away. "Don't you touch it," Zim snarled. In his anger, he clenched his right hand into a fist, but then instantly winced. "So help me, Dib... I..."

"What?" Dib challenged.

"...swear I'll..."

"Yeah?"

Zim picked his head up, drew in a deep breath, held it, then gave up. He hung his head, let his breath out, and let Dib go without so much as a shove. All resolve was gone. At this point, I was one hundred percent genuinely concerned. I don't get concerned, usually. Of course, through this whole ordeal, I was throwing 'usual' out the window. Fuck usual. As scary as it was to be feeling the way I did, I had to accept it. It was rare that I became aware of someone who seemed more miserable than I've always felt I was.

Life to me always seemed dreary and miserable. I had a weird family life. School sucked. People were assholes. Now here's someone who, though kind of an idiot in his own right, was different from the usual, run-of-the-mill asshole that plagued my life. Here was someone who honestly had really bad luck. Someone whose life was so contorted and fucked he didn't know which way was up anymore. And this someone just so happened to care about me.

The corners of Zim's mouth twitched, though which way, I could not tell, and he backed away, still staggering a bit. "It's over," he declared sadly. "Why don't you two just go?"

I glanced over at Dib, who was shaking himself off, recovering from Zim's brief lapse back into a more violent mindframe. After gathering his wits, Dib straightened and walked back over to my side, as if protecting me. Or, now I think of it, maybe he really was trying to protect me. "We're not going anywhere till you really make sense of this," he decided on saying.

"Sense of what?" Zim wondered. "Nothing makes sense anymore. Just leave, would you? I've gotta get going anyway." With that, he turned and started to walk away. GIR was quickly up and at his heels.

"Going where?" I asked as we caught up with him on the sidewalk.

Zim abruptly stopped and groaned, and leaned against the side of an apartment building. "Home," he said dejectedly. "I… I told my mom I'd be home by eight thirty. I don't want to worry her again."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Dib wanted to know. "Just earlier today you were _complaining_ about how––"

"Look," Zim cut in, surprisingly not in a rude tone. "I… I don't know how to live. I don't know what it's like to have a family, or what to expect on a daily basis, but… I just… I don't know."

He sighed and looked straight at us. "I have to start over," he said. "Long before my time but… no going back now."

"This is _my_ fault, isn't it?" I asked. "You're just depressed, right? You can go back. You're just… confused, that's all. Right?"

"No, it's not _your_ fault, Gaz," answered Zim, "it's _mine._ I should have listened to her. I was just too stubborn. I wouldn't be surprised if _she_ did this."

"Who?" I inquired. "Tak?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter now, anyway."

"Stop that!" I snapped. "Tell me straightforward, what's wrong?"

_"LIFE!"_ Zim shouted. He grasped my shoulders, wincing a little because of his right arm. "Don't you _get_ it yet? I AM A _HUMAN!"_

"Stop _shouting!"_ I yelled.

"Gaz," he said, calming down, his voice low and smooth, "if you don't believe me…" He sighed. "What do my eyes tell you? Look at me now, Gaz, what do you see?"

Without saying a word, I forced myself to look into his eyes. His eyes used to be bright and gleaming: windows to his inner Irken self. Now, they were soft and sincere, shining only due to uncried tears and reflecting moonlight. I looked carefully and deeply into his soft brown eyes, and then I knew that there was no escaping the truth. It was the inescapable sadness, tinting his deep brown eyes, that finally gave it all away.

I was looking into the eyes of a human. In his eyes, I saw a human with a troubled history, a complicated past. These were the eyes of a human no different from Dib or myself: a human who had always been human… and nothing more.

"No…" I whispered, shaking my head and backing away. "This… this is just temporary, right? Y-you have to be _Irken!_ We have to go _home!_ We… we… oh, _no…_ no, come on, Zim! Tell me this isn't _permanent!"_

"I'm sorry," said Zim. "I have to go now."

Again, he started walking away. GIR tugged on my skirt, so I picked him up. "Zim, wait," I said. "L… Let me walk you home."

Zim turned and forced a smile. "I'd like that."

"You go ahead, Gaz," Dib said, after a few seconds of hesitation. "I have to go have a talk with Dad. See you at home."

"Yeah." I thanked him silently for letting me take this walk wih Zim alone.

So, Dib headed off in the other direction, and Zim and I started walking towards his house. GIR made me carry him. I didn't really care.

"Do you mind talking about it?" I asked Zim after a while.

"Huh? What?"

"You know…"

"Oh, right," he said. "Nah, I don't care. I know I can't go back. I don't mind talking about it now, but I'd eventually like to forget it. I don't want to live life knowing that I'm just a shadow of what I once was, I just want to _live._ What's the point in hating my life? I mean, I'm still _me._ I have you guys to talk to, and my mom is pretty nice, and she's really gullible, too. I'm sure life will be fine once I get used to it."

"But what about Irk?" I asked. "What about the Invasion?"

"I don't know," Zim answered. "I really don't know."

We walked in silence for a while after that, but then Zim gasped harshly and clasped his left hand firmly around the dagger wound again. He stopped walking and let out a small choking sound, then hissed, "Dammit…"

"What?" I asked quickly. "What's wrong?"

Zim looked down at me and said, quietly and sadly, "I want to cry…"

The words pierced my heart and I lost control of my breathing for a moment. To hear Zim say that was the saddest, most unexpected thing I have ever heard in my life. I'd almost forgotten, but at that moment I suddenly remembered… this was the Irken who had hoped to cause so much devastation, who was so egotistic and always acted the hero. And now he was nothing. Over the past few days, he'd learned how to be human; he'd learned to love and care; but to actually hear that phrase come out of him… I know I was taken aback, but compared to what _he_ felt… I realized that this was the saddest moment of his life.

Zim turned his head away. "Go home, Gaz," he half-whispered. "I really don't want you to see me like this."

"Zim, I…" I stuttered, "I can't just _leave_ you! Listen, you had a time when you were worried about me, and now… well, I'm concerned about you! I care about what _happens_ to you! I'm not going to leave until I know that you're safely home!"

Zim said nothing for a moment, then looked at me again. "You're the first," he told me, his deep, raspy voice sounding softer than ever. "You're the first person who's ever said _anything_ like that to me. What have I done to deserve all this kindness?"

My eyes watered, and I accidentally blinked out a couple of stress-induced tears. "You've changed," I replied. "I'm so sorry to say this, but you're _human!_ You're…"

Zim's eyes widened and he stepped up to me. "Gaz, stop," he pleaded, looking worried. "Gaz, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to make you cry! I don't want you to feel like you have to––"

"It's okay," I assured him, drying my eyes while still keeping hold of GIR. "I'm just weak, I guess, that's all."

Surprisingly, Zim let out a little laugh. "Gaz? Weak?" he chuckled. "Never."

"Huh?" I found myself saying. My eyes were still cloudy when I tried to look up at him, and now it pissed me off. I dropped GIR abruptly, bent my head, and began rubbing my eyes furiously, not taking a second to wonder how horribly my makeup must have been running. I was a mess. I was a terrible mess. Ever since my waterworks that night I went without sleep, my eyes seemed to think it was okay to cry. I hated criers. Crying girls were weak and pathetic and couldn't stand up for themselves. Now that I was crying, the same must have been true of me. Just one more stupid girl who couldn't do a thing on her own. I hated myself for falling into that. I hated myself for being unable to stop this whole awful situation. I hated myself for playing into Tak's game. I hated myself for getting too close to Zim. I cried because I hated myself, and I hated myself for crying. See what I mean? Some heroine, huh?

"You're not weak at all," Zim assured me. "You're just... sad."

"Oh, great, thanks," I spat at him. "Sad. I don't get sad. Sad is for little kids who lose their moms in malls."

"Well, I don't know many other words," Zim confessed, gingerly placing his hands on my shoulders. "Oh..."

"What?"

"I just got blood on your shirt," he said, drawing his left hand back.

"I don't care." Fine time for Zim to laugh again. "What's so funny?" I demanded, jerking my head up.

"Nothing," he said. "Just that it's pretty obvious that you're the opposite of weak."

"I'm crying, aren't I?" I grumbled, pointing at my tear-streaked face. "Whereas there you are with your arm looking like that! Something's wrong with me. I don't have the courage to hold it all in like you do."

"H-Hold what in?"

"Everything… pain, I guess," I said. "You've hardly made a sound, but that cut must really, really hurt."

"It… it does," Zim said in return. He lifted his hands off my shoulders and raised his right arm a little to look at the cut. "Tak would have done better to cut my entire arm off, that's how much it hurts. But, to be honest, Gaz… I just don't want to show you my pain. What you've seen of me is my strength. Even I don't understand it… how strong I am… but it was all I had. Now that you've seen me at my weakest, I don't want to stoop any lower. I don't know why. I guess I just don't want you to worry about me too much."

"You're so…" I began, searching for the right word.

"What?"

I looked straight up into his eyes. "Sincere," I decided on.

Zim's eyes shone, then, and it wasn't just due to the tears that hadn't yet been released. He touched his right hand to my cheek and gently pressed his forehead against mine.

"It feels so good to hear you say that," he told me in a whisper. Though it was not audible, I could feel him sigh. "I think I'm finally beginning to understand what being human is all about," he continued, not moving. "It's clearer, now… thanks to you…"

There was a moment of stillness between us, and then, very cautiously, Zim pressed his lips to mine to initiate a small, simple kiss. I was sold on it for a second, then pressed my lips together tightly so that he had to stop. When he drew back a little out of respect for my silent request, I asked him, oddly enough in a whisper, "Why are you doing this..?"

"Doing what?"

"Leading me on."

"I... well, I don't know that phrase, but, really, I can't think of too many reasons," said Zim, his voice more level and normal than I'd ever heard it. "You fascinate me, Gaz. You're... well, I've always thought you were so... put-together, and—"

"Put-together? I'm a wreck! I'm the girl everyone hates being around, because—"

"So what?" Zim pressed. "I don't hate you." I looked him straight in those dark brown eyes as he smiled and told me again, "I love you."

My mouth tried to smile, but I hung my head instead. Still confused and convoluted, I reached for an escape by saying, "Being human isn't all that great, you know."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's actually really painful."

"You're telling me."

"Well, okay, maybe you get physical pain," I gave him, "but wait till the rest of you starts hurting." Where the hell was this coming from? I was trying to escape revealing too much to him. Why was I opening up instead?

Zim chewed this over for a few seconds, then asked, rather hollowly, "Am I hurting you?"

"Huh? You? No. I mean, at least, I don't think so," I said. "Look, I've just dealt with such an abnormal life for so long, I just... I dunno. I hurt like it's my job. That sounds really lame and stupid."

"So let me help you," Zim offered.

"What? No," I dismissed. "I don't need help." We both shut up for a bit there. I knew damn well I was echoing him from the alleyway. We were so awkwardly alike I could puke. "Look, just... what do you want from me?" I had to ask.

"Want from—n-nothing!" Zim insisted. "Jeez! I've told you. You make everything worthwhile. You make me not mind being human. You make this world attractive. You make things okay."

"How? All I did was save you from Tak's—thing!" I shouted.

"Date me," Zim challenged me out of nowhere.

"WHAT?"

"You heard me. Go out with me."

"Your arm is fucking falling off and all you can do is order me to date you?" I screamed. "Why would I date you? Why would you want me to date you? Why are we even talking about dating? I'm ten years old! You're Irken! How old are you, anyway?"

Zim smirked, leaned right in to catch my eyes dead on, and answered smoothly, "I'm sixteen." And with that, he brushed my hair behind my left ear, twined his fingers into my hair, and kissed me before I could object. Now I was more than convinced that he was losing himself. But... for right now, fuck it. Because this felt pretty good. I'll reiterate: nobody had really cared for me in a very long time. And I'm sure it will be a while until someone does again. This wasn't the family love that I really wanted, but it was nice.

When Zim pulled back from the kiss, I stupidly found myself wanting more. For a few beats, I was just gone. Real Gaz had checked out and New Gaz was in. New Gaz liked physical contact, and being complimented, and having someone kind around. Not so bad, I guess. "So..?" Zim prompted, running his thumb against the corner of my left eye, probably smudging out an attractive clot of mascara that had run its way over there when I'd let myself cry. "What do you say, Gaz?"

"Put a bandage on your arm," I said, scowling a little. "It's kinda grossing me out."

"Okay, okay," he gave in, as if the pain I knew he was feeling from that thing was yesterday's news. His oddly soothing brown eyes searched mine, and he smiled. "Just do me this one favor, okay?"

I cleared my throat.

"Be my girlfriend."

Half to get him to shut up and half out of curiosity, I agreed, "Okay."

Zim winced, and grasped the cut again. He then looked at me and smiled.

"I want spaghetti!" GIR whined from the sidewalk. I'd almost forgotten about him. Whoops. Ha. "Meatball, meatball, meatball…" he sang as an afterthought.

"Oh, right," Zim said, shaking his head. "I have to get home."

"Oh, yeah," I agreed. I'd also forgotten _that. _I wasn't doing well that night.

We walked the rest of the way in silence. It felt like dramatic tension. In just a few minutes, we arrived at his house. A light was on. "Probably the kitchen," Zim snorted. I was suddenly reminded that we didn't have one anymore.

"Ugh… what're you gonna do about your arm?" I wondered. "What's your… uh… um… mother… gonna say?"

"Gaz, it's okay, I've accepted it," Zim laughed. "Plus, I told you, she's gullible. Watch this." He opened the door to his house. "Mom, I'm home," he announced.

"Hell-o-o-ooo!" the woman I'd met earlier sang from the kitchen. "You're just in time for dinner!"

"I figured as much," Zim muttered.

"What's that?" his mother said, walking into the room, wiping her hands on her apron. "Oh, hello, Gaz!"

"Hey," I mumbled.

"Heavens, Zim!" cried his mother, finally noticing the deep cut on his arm. "You're bleeding! What happened?"

"Well," said Zim, "I was trying to get my life as an Irken back, but Tak slashed my arm with a dagger and threw me off the roof of a building, so now I'm stuck in a living hell. But, I'm dealing."

"Oh, you," his mother laughed. "What _really_ happened?"

"Eh," Zim shrugged. "I ran into a tree."

"Oh, well… wait. _Gaz_ didn't do this, _did_ she?"

"No, Mother."

"If that girl has any of those whips and chains…"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, MOM, _NO!"_

"Gaz, you're a good girl, aren't you?"

"In sex terms, yeah," I grumbled.

"That's right!" Zim's mother chimed. "Now, Zim, you stay right here, and I'll find you a bandage for that arm."

She left the room. I stared at Zim, who grinned. "See?" he said.

I rolled my eyes and looked around. The inside of his house looked a lot like his base had. It opened into the living room, but now there were stairs to the left, leading to the second floor. There was now a hall separating the living room from the kitchen, and I assumed that the bathroom was down the hall and to the right, since that's where his mother had gone.

Zim flopped down onto the couch in the living room and sighed. "You might want to go," he advised. "I just _know_ my mom'll trick you into staying for dinner."

I laughed a little. GIR jumped out of my arms and onto the couch. "You gonna be okay?" I asked.

"Eh, I don't know," said Zim in an unreadable tone. "I just need some time to think."

"Oh," I said.

"Well, see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh, and Gaz?" he said before I could turn to go.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." I smiled, gave a sort-of wave and left slowly, closing the door behind me.

I walked to the end of the block, then held my head in my hands. "Oh, no, no, _no…"_ I moaned. "This is all wrong. Why me? Why _me?_ There's gotta be _some_ way back! Awww… shit. Jesus, this just can't get any worse." Huh. Shoulda known _that_ would jinx me.

– – –

When I got home, Dad was standing strategically in front of me, arms folded.

"Uh… h-hey, Dad," I greeted.

Dad doesn't get mad at me often, so when he was in one of his moods, I could tell. I just knew I was in trouble. Yep. I was gonna catch hell.

"Gaz…" he said flatly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know how much a kitchen costs?"

"Um… a lot?"

"Exactly."

"It was GIR!" I blurt quickly. Then, I noticed that we had a kitchen again. "What th––"

"If it weren't for modern technology," Dad said, "you would be in even _more_ trouble."

"But––" I tried to protest.

"You and your brother…" Dad sighed, shaking his head. "What makes you feel as though you can just do whatever you want?"

"I don't––"

"Gaz, it's time you two stop relying on me, and start pulling your weight around here."

"Dad, what are you––"

"You and your brother are going to have to pay for that kitchen!"

"What?" I cried. "But we don't––"

"I know." A chill went down my spine. "You've avoided it long enough, Gaz. I think it's time you get a job."

"A _what?"_ I shouted, flabbergasted. "But, Dad, I… I'm too busy with school, and… and other stuff…"

"Well, that 'other stuff' now includes a part-time job. Oh, and I'll be making an effort to be home more, to keep you and Dib under control."

"Under control?"

"I turn my back, Gaz, and what do I find? A part of my house missing!"

"Dad, it isn't my _fault!"_

"Even so, Gaz… even so…"

A pause.

"Even so _what?"_ I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Gaz, that's another thing you need to learn."

"That being?"

"Conversational skills," said Dad. "That sentence, though I trailed off, which I did strategically, marked the end of that conversation."

"Oh, for God's sake!" I shouted.

"Again, I repeat: this conversation is over. Tomorrow, I want you to start looking for a part-time job."

_"LIFE IS HELL!"_ I screamed.

"It sure is," Dad concurred, disappearing down into his lab.

I growled loudly and stamped my foot, then stormed up the stairs.

"DIB!" I hollered, barging into his room. Figures I'd find him on the computer.

"Jeez, Gaz, _what?"_ said Dib, spinning in his seat to face me.

"What's this all about?" I demanded. "What'd you say to him?"

"I didn't get a word in!" Dib hurriedly shouted. "I got home and then got yelled at to get a job!"

"Same _here,"_ I grumbled. "What're you doing?"

"Job searching," Dib complained, rolling his eyes. "Swollen Eyeball is willing to pay me, but I don't have any new material. We're basically screwed."

"FUN!" I exclaimed sardonically.

"Excruciating," Dib added. "Don't you have homework to do?"

"Don't remind me," I muttered. There was a pause. "So… that's it then?" I said. "We're just… accepting life?"

"Well, what else can we _do?"_ Dib pointed out, leaning back in his seat. "I walked down Tak's street. She's gone. I have no clue as to what's going on. I need more time, but I don't know how much I _have,_ or how to utilize it. Dad's more annoyed than ever about my research, and keeps yelling and insisting that it won't get me anywhere in life. He won't shut up about _college shit!_ I don't _care!_ I just want everything to be as it was."

"So do I," I concurred. "Hey, I'd better go. I don't want to be up _all_ night."

"Yeah, good idea," said Dib.

"Good luck," I told him. He grinned and got back to whatever it was he'd been doing.

I walked down the hall and into my room, then shut the door for privacy. I dropped my physics and algebra books on top of my desk, and reluctantly got to work. Physics was easy enough. I just had to look up and define Newton's Laws and Bernoulli's Principle. Then algebra. Ten problems of matrix hell.

Problem one: Multiply the two matrices.

My answer: Who gives a shit?

I glared at the paper and erased the sentence.

My new answer: I won't solve this. You can't make me.

More erasing.

My new answer: This sucks balls.

More erasing.

My new answer: I hate my life.

More erasing.

My new answer: FUCK.

I erased that and took out my calculator, and actually solved the stupid problem. So, I tediously finished my math, then picked a random Dalí painting and scrawled out a couple of half-assed paragraphs on its aesthetic value and meaning. I don't even remember which painting it was, that's how much attention I gave that assignment. When I finally did get to sleep, I did so feeling sick, nauseous, and just basically like shit.

– – –

Morning came, as usually it does. I fell out of bed, dragged myself into the shower, got out not caring that I'd left the water running, dressed, grabbed my backpack and trudged down the stairs. "Kitchen," I muttered, telling my brain where I was supposed to go. I sat down on a stool near the counter and stuck a piece of bread in the toaster.

"You feeling okay?" Dib asked.

"No," I replied. I picked up a fork and contemplated sticking it in the toaster: end it all. "I feel like crap."

"Oh."

"How the hell did we get a new kitchen, anyway?" I had to ask.

"No clue," Dib answered, shrugging. "I tried asking Dad about it earlier, but it became a one-sided conversation along the lines of 'blah, blah, blah, money, college, blah.' I don't know. I tuned him out after three or four 'blahs.'"

"I see," I said. My stomach turned. "Ugh," I muttered. "I think I'm gonna puke."

"I'm not stopping you," said Dib, "but just don't do it in here."

"If you insist."

The toaster was being bitchy, so I got up, unplugged it, and smashed it back down into the counter. The toaster whirred and spat out a burnt piece of bread. "Dammit, Dad!" I shouted. "If you're gonna get a new kitchen, get one that doesn't have piece of shit toasters!" I attempted to eat the charcoal that had come out of it, but it only succeeded in making me feel worse, so I threw it away. I stormed instead to the fridge and just glared inside, hoping it would tell me what I could stomach.

"Gaz," Dib began warily, "are you feeling okay?"

"I just _told_ you, _no,"_ I growled at him. My head felt foggy and all inside, I felt like my organs had been replaced with a hollow boulder. Nothing I ate, I realized, would satisfy me, so I grabbed an apple and bit into it numbly, hoping the acid could dissolve whatever was chewing me up. When I closed the fridge again, I groaned and leaned against it, forehead on the freezer door.

I knew most of what was wrong. Life was changing drastically, and we were being forced to play catch-up. Dad was becoming less of a ghost in our lives and more of a nuisance. Zim wasn't Irken anymore, and had recalcitrantly resigned himself to life as a normal human. The upside to it for him: me. God knows why, but he was really investing a lot in me. Maybe that was what was making me sickest. Based on what was agreed the night before, we were going out, and this was a concept I had never thought to prepare myself for. Once again: I am _ten._ Still, the promise of someone there to look out for me was kind of nice. I just doubted I'd be a very good girlfriend. Friend, sure, maybe, but I hadn't even gotten that down yet.

To make things worse, Dib asked, "Gaz, um... what... happened, last night?"

"Oh, my God, Dib, seriously," I warned, "don't you dare."

"Dare what?" he scoffed. "Now I have to know."

"Just leave it alone, okay? God, you're crazy." I hadn't backed away from the fridge this whole time, but I shifted the way I leaned against it so I could eat another bite of apple. It went down poorly and made my stomach churn again.

"Call me whatever you want, but I started thinking last night..." said Dib, staring me down. "You and Zim have been spending an awful lot of time together."

"Yeah, so?" I said through another bite of apple. "You let us."

"Yeah, a poor move on my part." His face showed that he was being completely serious. I was not up for this, especially at this hour of the morning. "I still don't completely trust him."

"Then why'd you let me walk him home?"

"Look, I don't know! Maybe I was feeling nice, since he did—well, he did save me last night," Dib admitted, "but still. This whole transmogrification ordeal is really hard to sort out."

"Then don't!" I snapped. "He's accepted that he's human. You should, too!"

"Gaz, just tell me _what is going on!"_ Dib shouted.

"For the last time, you're my brother, not my guardian!" I screamed back. My stomach churned again, and this time it was not going to stop. I threw the apple away and pushed past Dib to the downstairs bathroom.

"Gaz, what—"

"I'm gonna puke!" I yelled over my shoulder. My stomach was churning, and the malic acid from the apple was not helping, but, even as I bent over the toilet in the downstairs bathroom, no bile rose. This awkwardly embarrassed me, since I'd made such a scene, and I thought about gagging myself just so I _would_ throw up.

But the only sour taste in my mouth was uncertainty, and the only thing that pushed its way from my gut and spilled out was an awful, uncharacteristic heave of a sob. _Oh, please puke,_ I willed myself. It would have been so much less embarrassing than crying. AGAIN. No such luck. I arched over the porcelain seat, crossing my arms over the bowl and burying my forehead in my forearms, my legs splayed out to my sides and my eyes about to start a damn monsoon.

Just then, I heard a light knock on the doorframe.

"Go away," I commanded on instict. It didn't hit as hard as I'd intended. In fact, I could barely even hear my voice; it cracked and trailed off into nothingness. "You can't watch this!"

Dib asked the stupidest thing ever: "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, Dib, yeah, I'm _excellent," _I mocked him. "Just get out of here."

"Are you cr—"

"No!" I snapped. "I'm _fine!"_

As this was an obvious lie, Dib stepped further into the bathroom and then, quite to my surprise, he knealt down next to me, and then, tepidly, set a hand on my back. "It, um... it'll be okay..." he tried, new to giving consolation.

"What?" I hissed.

"It'll be okay," he tried again. "I-I mean it. We still have time. We'll figure something out, really. And, uh..."

"What?" I wondered again, this time daring to look at him. His expression was one of genuine concern, and yet he still looked determined enough to take on the world at any moment. My stupid brother... was there anything he wouldn't try too hard to do?

"I'm sorry," he said, then, looking me in the eyes. I glared at him, demanding more. For his first answer, Dib unrolled a length of toilet paper and handed it to me to use as a tissue. When I dabbed at my eyes, the offwhite fabric turned jet black. My eyes must have looked _awesome._ I held my hand out for more, and Dib supplied it to me without question, but continued speaking. "It's just... you know how I am about Zim. There's no pattern to that guy. He's reckless, he's unhinged, he's a total lunatic, he's bent on destroying this planet and—"

"Not to me," I cut in.

"Huh?"

I couldn't repeat it, since I'd sort of lied. Zim _was_ unhinged, and I knew it. I did not tell Dib about the fights that Zim and I had had; I did not tell him how honestly scared of him I'd been a few times recently. What I did say was, "He's nice to me."

"And, uh... that's... that's good, I guess," Dib offered. "It's hard to believe though, you know?"

"Maybe if you spent less time studying him and more time getting to know him, he'd be your friend, too," I scolded my brother.

"So... you _are_ friends," he deduced.

I nodded into another wad of toilet paper.

"That's it?"

"Um. Yeah," I decided on saying.

"Just making sure. How're you feeling now?"

"Been better."

Finally, the acidity of the apple mixed with stress and the unsettled acids in my organs, and I did throw up, which, on an empty stomach, was no fun. Dib didn't move. For once, he really played the older brother and sat beside me, rubbing my back until I was done, then, without a word, got me a glass of water and made me a peanut butter and black cherry jam sandwich (he claimed that, though toast would be better, he did not want to deal with our awful toaster any more than I did that morning). After gulping down a gallon of water, I cleaned myself up, re-did my makeup and hair, and met my brother out in the car. We drove in silence for a few blocks before I finally picked up the sandwich and started in on it. When I looked over to properly thank him, Dib cracked a slight smile, probably glad to be appreciated. Not wanting to overindulge his big ego with _too_ much appreciation, I went back to the sandwich, ripping off bite-sized pieces as I watched the suburban world rush by outside my window.

– – –

Surprisingly, despite my repugnant waste of time that morning, we made it to school on time. "See you at lunch, I guess," Dib said to me as we parted ways.

"Mmmyep," I muttered. I went down into the art room and took out my homework.

"Good morning, Gaz," my teacher greeted.

"Hi, uh…" I searched for his name in my mind. "Mr. Saunders."

"Oh, now," he laughed, with a flick of his hand. I think he was wearing perfume. Not cologne. Perfume. "You don't need to call me that."

"Whatever, Mr. Saunders," I said unemotionally. The bell rang. I rolled my eyes and walked to my seat.

Well, Art went… well. Surprisingly, my shitty report was better than any of the _others._ I soon labeled that as my favorite class. Do nothing, get A's. Works for me. I became Saunders' favorite, and decided to own it; all the other favorites I'd known (remember, this is elementary school I'm talking, for experience) were suck-ups. Nice to be appreciated for effort for a change.

On to Physics. Oh, joy. Mr. Paisley assigned us lab partners, and we did some sort of Newton experiment. I ended up doing most of the work, and was soon after ridiculed by most of my stupid classmates for being like my brother. After class, I whacked my lab partner upside the head with a ten-pound weight I found in the back of the room. Oddly enough, I got away with it.

Then 75 minutes of getting yelled at in Spanish. Mrs. Sigovia, I concluded, loved expletives out of any other Spanish phrases currently known. I was astonished that we weren't given a quiz on the joys of the word _mierda,_ et. al.

Then came lunch. I met up with my brother and promptly stated that my life sucked. He laughed and agreed with me completely.

"Eat something," he said once we'd sat down.

"Nah," I muttered unemotionally. "I'm too depressed. You know, you're not eating, either."

"I've got too much on my mind," Dib said.

"Ah."

The rest of the day just dragged on. I think I fell asleep during fourth period. If I did, it was the best part of my day. I skulked out of the building as soon as school let out, then sat down on a block of cement that protruded from the front of the school to wait for Dib.

"He has detention."

I was caught off-guard and nearly fell. "Oh," I said, looking over in the direction of the speaker. "Hey, Zim." He grinned. "How's your arm?"

"Better," he shrugged. He lifted his shirt sleeve to reveal a cloth bandage wrapped around the dagger cut. It took me until then to register that he was, at last, wearing something different (which made sense, now that he sort of had a home life, I guess...). Today, his shirt was a faded heather grey, and he wore regular blue jeans. He looked so _normal_ I forgot for a second what the cut on his arm really symbolized. "This stupid thing feels really constrictive, though," he added, tugging his sleeve down again with a look of disgust, "and it's still an open wound. Next time I see Tak, I'm gonna wring her neck!" he announced, demonstrating with his hands.

"Good to see you acting a little more like yourself," I said, sliding off my perch. "So, what's Dib in for?"

"Having an opinion," Zim answered. "During Chemistry, he asked what difference it would make using the Latin names for elements as opposed to the English. I guess that wasn't a standard enough question to be asked, so he got detention."

"That's stupid," I said.

"See why I was never really fond of humans?" Zim joked. "Anyway, I offered to walk you home. If you want, that is."

"Sure," I said, shrugging. "Dib was okay with that?" I asked as we started to leave the premises.

"Yeah, after some convincing. I told him I had to talk to you about something."

"And do you?"

"Yeah. I told you that your brother's in detention."

I laughed a little. "Seriously, Zim," I began, "you're acting a lot more like yourself today. Why is that?"

"I need a reason?"

"Come on."

Zim smiled at me. "Being depressed won't do me any good," he said. "Tak's entire mission, or what have you, is emotion-based. I figure either acting like I don't care or simply having no objections to what she's done will throw her off-guard. Maybe," he continued, leaning against the side of a building while we waited for the crossing signal at an intersection, "being human is just…"

"Is just what?" I wondered. "It's not like you can go back. There's nothing you can do about this."

"Nothing is never an option, Gaz," Zim declared, his brown eyes gleaming. "It's not a possibility."

"What do you mean?"

"The whole concept of 'nothing' is crazy," he said. "Either something happens or it doesn't, and, even when it doesn't, something else does. Therefore, 'nothing' never happens."

"Huh," I remarked. "Never thought of it that way." We continued on in silence for a while, until I had to ask a nagging question. "Hey, Zim?" I asked. "What… exactly did you mean by that?"

"Hm? Oh." He gulped. "I don't know, really, but…" He trailed off and stopped abruptly. I turned.

"What's up?" I asked him.

Zim glanced over his shoulder, then back at me. "Let's sit for a minute," he suggested. "I can't walk and think at the same time."

I grinned a little. There was a small park nearby that was fairly free of activity, so we found a bench in a shady area away from the center. "Okay," I said. "Now you can think."

"I hope." It was funny, but I didn't laugh.

Zim took a few moments to gather his thoughts. If one word could describe him, I think _restless_ would be a good contender. And that means descriptive of all of him... how he was as an Invader, how he was as a human. Sitting still was difficult for him, but around me, somehow, he managed. I was so busy watching him look around, that I almost did not hear him say, "Nothing, huh?" I looked up at him as he sighed and leaned back against the bench, shielding his eyes from the sun when he glanced up into the September sky. "You could say that 'nothing' was happening right now, right?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

"But it isn't. We're talking. There's wind." He glanced around again. "Whole bunch of stuff's going on. It doesn't amount to much, but it isn't 'nothing.' Sooner or later, things happen, big things, whether you expect them or not. And then something else happens after that... like..." Zim trailed off out of his uncharactaristic ramblings. Oh, he was perfectly himself to be rambling—about anything—but he'd never given me any reason to think him philosophical before. His gaze fluttered down to his right, where I was sitting. But he wasn't looking at me.

He was looking at his arm.

As if by new instinct, he rolled up his sleeve, careful to brush his fingers on the bandage only near skin far from the actual wound. "I don't understand why I have a human mother right now," Zim admitted. So he was still rambling. I sat back and soaked it in. I wouldn't describe me as a listener, by any means, but I'm a good sponge. I hear what people say, and sometimes I even care a little, but I never do anything with the information. It just sits there. I hate to say it, but I'm like Dad that way. Dad is a compendium of seemingly useless information. When not listening to the sound of his own voice, Professor Membrane is one hell of a knowledge sponge. He passed that to me, and someday I'll figure out a use for everything I know. Unfortunately, I'm thinking at this point that all it's prepping me to do is get ready for a bigger Invasion than just a couple of Irkens bumming around our hometown. Call me paranoid, but, based on that whole week's events, I can definitely feel something coming. I sensed it even that day, too. I'm pretty sure Zim caught on. At the moment, though, he kept rambling. "I don't get it, but if it weren't for her, my arm would probably be rotting off right about now," Zim said.

"No, it wouldn't," I interrupted.

"Whuh?"

"I would've made Dib drive you to the hospital before that could happen," I told him. "Besides. Dib owes you one."

A ghost of a grin appeared on Zim's face. "Heh... he does, doesn't he?" he realized, looking for a second like the Invader that seemed so lost in the human I was sitting next to.

The question tugged at my brain, so I let it out: "Why'd you save him, anyway?"

Zim rolled down his sleeve again and shrugged. "Seemed like the right thing to do," he admitted. "Plus... would you ever have forgiven me if I hadn't?"

That set me fuming. "You only saved him because you thought I'd get upset at you otherwise?" I spat.

"Gaz, calm down!" Zim commanded, though not harshly. "I mean, yes, partly, but also, seriously, look at it from where I was at that point. Where I am now! If I do have to—" he shut himself up, then lowered his voice to more of a whisper, "If I do have to live as a human forever, my options in life are really limited, and you two are the only potential friends I could ever have. Not gonna lose one and spend the rest of my life comforting his grieving sister, okay?"

"Hmm," I said, realizing he had a bit of a point. "Okay."

Before too awkward a silence could arise, I glanced at the pristine bandage again. It was impossible not to. The bandage was a hue or two darker than his natural skin tone, which itself was only about a hue or two darker than mine (I repeat that I probably look like a sheet of bleached rice paper, with how much my skin sees the sun, making Zim a healthy kind of pale, and me like bone), and was offset further by the light grey of his shirt. The color wasn't everything, though. It was what I knew was underneath. Was he still bleeding? Were there blood clots? He said 'rotting—' was it really that bad? How long had it taken to wash that wound, anyway? Was it still gaping and horrible, or had it started to scar?

Driven only by these questions, I raised my left hand and asked, "How's your arm?"

"Better," said Zim, "but don't touch it." He'd warned Dib against that in the alley, too. I figured it was just because of how tender the area must have been.

Too late. My hand had moved on its own. I was way too curious.

The second one finger was set out of place, Zim's face drained, his pupils dilated, and he quickly looked away from me and cringed, bending over himself. Strictly as a defense mechanism, he reached over with his left hand and grabbed my wrist so I'd hold it away. My heart thudded in my chest so hard I thought it would explode. As he tried to hold it together, Zim drew in a long, though shaking, breath through his teeth, then let it out on what he forced to be a sigh rather than a moan. After another couple of deep breaths, he repeated, "Just don't touch it. Ever." Before I could respond, he sat up a little, freed my wrist, and leaned forward on his knees so that his fingers clenched his bangs, his forehead on the heels of his palms. I noticed a small stain of red on the bandage. Fuck—I'd _opened_ it? No wonder. "At least that one wasn't too bad," I heard Zim mutter.

"What's going on?" I asked him.

"Just saw a flash... it's fine," he half-said.

"A flash?" I was lost, but concerned. He looked positively out of it. During that small attack, he seemed like he could relapse any second... but into what, I was not sure. Whatever had happened, it was hurting him worse than I could possibly imagine. While I had feared him, liked him, possibly loved him, and felt connected to or sorry for him before... now, I truly respected him, and began to feel bad for him. Maybe that was part of the liking, too. Something about the way he currently was, something about the way he seemed so comfortable around me, telling me all these things, made me want all the more to make sure he'd pull through, survive, succeed. I forgot all about the world conquest thing. I just saw a person, not a would-be, all-powerful conquerer. "Flash of what? From that?"

"Every time I touch it, the pain is enough to jostle out some old memory of mine," Zim explained, speaking under his breath so that no one else could hear. "Just a flash, and then it's gone. It's just weird, because..." He completely trailed off, then glanced suspiciously around the park a couple of times before standing and offering me his hand. I took it without question, and he hoisted me up to standing, then said, "Let's get out of here. I can't talk about this here."

"Sure," I agreed, then began to lead the way. "We'll go to my house. Dad's at his studio lab all day today, so he won't be around to bother us."

Zim gave no verbal answer, but I knew that the idea settled well because he did not complain. We moved swiftly out of the park and into the winding residential streets, where I turned shortcut after shortcut to make the walk easier. As we continued onward past hedged lawns and all forms of mindless afternoon activity, I felt a pressure tighten around my hand. Glancing down out of curiosity, I discovered that my hand had not left his once since we'd left the park. This had been utterly unintentional on my part—maybe in my subconscious it was intentional, but only in the interest of dragging him along with me as I took the quickest route back home.

Once inside, I checked the lab, just to make sure Dad wasn't home. The car was nowhere to be seen, so Dib was still in detention. As soon as we knew we had the house to ourselves, Zim cast aside his schoolbag and sat down hard into the recliner in the living room. After a thought, I offered him food or a soda, but he kindly turned it down in favor of getting something off his chest.

"Ugh," he groaned. "I'd been making progress, too. I figured, as long as I didn't show that I was upset by anything, I'd pull one over on Tak. If _this_ keeps up, though..."

"Okay, let's start from there again," I suggested. "You said something about seeing flashes whenever you touch that cut..."

"I wouldn't say every time," Zim corrected, "but most of the time. I'll tell you, I did not sleep well last night. I rolled over onto it, blacked out into series upon series of events I can't tell are real or not, then woke up trying not to scream."

"Events you can't tell are real or not?" The sponge's secret ability: repeat things and hope they make sense. What good was being able to soak up information if all I did was regurgitate it right back to the teller? Oh, well. Even so, I was more than curious now. I was invested.

I'd never thought much about Zim before this ordeal. Never thought about his origins, what it was like to grow up yearning to be an Invader, what kind of training he must have gone through to achieve that status. The closer we became, the more I wanted to know. I wanted to know all about this person I found so incredibly intriguing.

"Here's what I know," said Zim, sorting out his thoughts slowly, and illustrating his confusion with almost exaggerated hand movements, to show passage of time and deliniation between important events. "I'm about a hundred and seventy-something, Irken years." Well, shit. "I don't remember the name of the Tallest when I was born. Actually... shit..." He hung his head, then folded his hands together and drummed his fingers against the knuckles on the opposite hand. "Gaz, I've never opened up about any of this. Tell no one."

"Who would I—"

"No one!" he insisted in a jarring tone.

I jumped a little, in my seat, but I promised that his secrets were safe with me.

After a forced sigh, Zim cut right to the point: "I'm classified as an Irken Defective. It means something is mentally unstable about me. I'm gonna tell you what that thing is. The thing that makes me that way."

"Zim, you don't have to."

"I want to. Being human has been a blessing on my mind, honestly," he said. "It's like being able to breathe for the first time. Gaining a conscience was great, but it's been mixing with how messed up my PAK has been for the past several years. Anyway. The thing that makes me Defective is this: I don't remember the first sixty years of my life.

"I did the math. Took a while, but I did the math. If I'm over 170, I should technically be about thirty or something as a human, based on equivalencies in our time structures," Zim went on to explain. "Since I'm missing that chunk of time, I read instead as sixteen. Which is fine. I'm fine with it. I like it. I dunno how much longer I'll get to stay like this, but it has a lot of advantages.

"Anyway, something that happened in that sixty-year chunk was Miyuki's rise to power. Obviously, it ends a little after her reign, because somewhere in there, I killed her. And her immediate successor. I killed her and I've forgotten everything about her reign and her politics and everything, but something about her won't leave me alone, and it kills me _because I can't completely remember!_

"But this thing," he then said, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the full bandage. "This thing... I don't know if it's a cut in my arm or a dimensional wormhole, I swear. Every time I provoke the skin in this area, my mind goes nuts. I see a flash of something I can't usually remember."

"That... sucks," I said, unable to form any other words. "I'm serious! That really sucks. So, wait, you know you can't remember things, but you know what's supposed to be there?"

"Based on what people have told me."

"What's the first thing you do remember?" I ventured to ask.

Zim shuddered. "I'm... not really comfortable telling you that yet," he said. After a beat, he added a calm, sincere, "Sorry." I shrugged it off and went a different route.

"Does everyone know you don't remember a lot?" I wondered. "Like, your leaders and stuff?"

"Oh, they know. It's all a given, with me," Zim said, rolling his eyes. "That crazy Zim, who destroys everything, including himself. Jeez. I do make a mess of things a lot. I do kind of suck at every mission I'm ever given, but dammit, I try. I'd like to see them deal with knowing they killed not one Tallest but two. And I don't even know how I did it," he continued, looking down at his hands now. "I don't know how I pulled it off. Or, worse, _why._ I just know that the Tallest know, and I keep getting randomly punished for it. Punished, but never killed myself."

"Maybe you're essential to keep alive," I suggested.

Zim laughed a little. "Would _you_ call me essential?" he asked.

I looked him in the eyes. His dark, haunting brown eyes. Before I could stop myself, I bit my lip and said, "Yeah." That got him to smile again, at least. After a beat, he glanced down at his arm again, and gingerly touched the spot just below the end of the wound, as if testing the waters. "Hey Zim?"

"Hmm?"

"What kind of stuff do you see?"

He drew in a harsh breath, and replied, "Destruction, mostly. Though I can't tell where, or what exactly I'm doing. It'll probably build up into the real story of what I was doing at the time... not sure how ready I am to start piecing it together, though. I can't remember it, but I still feel bad about Miyuki, though I don't know why."

I went for it. I had to know. "Did you love Tallest Miyuki?" I wondered.

"I have no idea," Zim answered honestly. "I was Irken. Irkens don't have love."

And thus our conversation switched yet again. "You just said 'was.'"

"Eh?"

"You said _'was.'_ You said you _were_ Irken."

"Yeah, so?"

"So you used the past tense!" I snapped. I didn't want to talk syntax with him, that would have taken forever and gotten nowhere. "Not present!"

"Oh," was all Zim said as he looked down at his hands again. "Am. I _am_ Irken." All of a sudden, his head shot up again. "Gaz, am I bothering you?" he asked.

"Huh? No!" I told him. "Not at all. This situation is bothering me. The time warp, I mean. Well, I mean, not that... oh, friggin' hell... I don't know..."

Zim grinned, then rose from his seat only to claim the one right next to me. Without wasting a breath, he ruffled my hair with his right hand, his fingers slighly massaging my scalp as he did, then pressed up close against me, his breath warm on my skin. Then, lightly, gently, he kissed me just above my ear.

He pulled back two second before the door opened. He was standing far away from me by the time my brother walked in. Dib entered somberly, tossed his bag against the wall, then straightened, squared his shoulders, and let his eyes drill holes into Zim. My brother cast a more worried glance at me, to make sure I was fine, that nothing horrible had happened, and then he looked back at Zim again. His intention was obvious. _"I'm watching you,"_ that gaze said.

"Hi," said Dib, finally, sourly. "Got home okay, then?"

"Yep!" Zim responded, almost too brightly, making himself smile. "Nothing to worry about here. Gaz was just about to show me the new level on her video game. Right?"

"Yeah," I said before I could say anything stupid instead.

Dib most likely did not buy it, but he rolled his eyes and let it go, now that he saw that Zim had (seemingly) kept away from me this whole time. "I don't know how you guys can bother with games when we still have so much to deal with, but whatever," he said. "I'll be in the garage doing _useful things_ if you need me." He said the last four words directly to me, which was basically code for, _"If he hurts you."_ I nodded to show that I understood, and then Dib left.

Zim and I looked at each other for a moment, then both decided it was safe to laugh. "I kinda like this," he admitted, walking up to the TV.

"What?"

"Sneaking around behind your brother's back like this," Zim clarified. He turned the TV and my game console on, then walked over with two controllers. "Might as well make good on that lie, though, eh?"

"Nothing else you wanna talk about?" I wondered, giving him the room to keep the discussion as it had been. Zim shook his head.

"I'd rather take my mind off of it. If I'm with you, it'll be fine." I asked him with my eyes what he meant. "Something else I like about you, Gaz," he said, sitting down beside me, "is how real you are. You're just... real. You don't pretend to be anything. I feel like I've been faking it for a long time. Always kinda wanted to be more like you."

That was an even more confusing compliment than the 'beautiful' one, but I accepted it all the same.

We then spent a good portion of the next half-hour playing the mission mode of _Warped._ I again played MiMi, and discovered that she had a very stupid weak spot at the back of her neck, where kittens go limp in their mothers' mouths. Given MiMi's weird cat-girl status, it made sense, but it was still annoying when fighting off whatever the enemy force was supposed to be. The graphics were great, but the story was all over the place, at least in the first couple of levels. It didn't have the copious cut scenes that most RPGs are laden with, which was nice, since I much prefer gameplay, but I began to appreciate the story structure of the bulk of them now that Zim and I were on a mission we had no background for. It was something about having to destroy five 'vital points' of an enemy camp, but the 'vital points' were spread out over all sorts of different terrains, to the point that I almost wanted to give up.

Then, a chance for a bonus level came up, and I wanted so badly to go for it, for something different to do, but the game showed a pop-up window that told me to download a code for it by entering the ID from the game's case online. I told Zim to hold on, since I was itching to get to that bonus level, and darted up the stairs to my room with the case, where I grabbed my laptop off my desk and practically tore it open. I set it down instead on my bed and navigated right away to the _Warped_ website, finding my way easily to the download area. The five-digit ID was entered, and... downloading... the code was...

I screamed and backed away from the computer.

The code was _MIYUKI._

"What the fuck?" I whispered to myself, my eyes glued to the red letters on the screen. I wasn't reading it wrong. "What the fuck, what the fuck?"

MIYUKI.

Bright and red on the screen.

And under it, an ominous button that read, _Continue?_

Shit, shit, shit, shit. The better half of my conscience told me that I needed to call Zim or Dib up right away, for the three of us to talk this over together. But, ignoring the voice of reason, I reached forward, clicked, and heard a different voice all together.

"Welcome to the bonus round," said my computer, in a no-nonsense, succinct, mature female tone. The voice could not be classified as 'human,' but, then again, it was coming from a computer monitor. Of course, my mind immediately went to the obvious conclusion: the voice was Irken. And belonged to a dead Tallest. In my computer.

Does this stuff ever happen to you?

Don't answer that.

"Please state your name," said the computer, "to continue with the bonus round."

I did not say my name. I didn't even scream. Instead, I backed away, bolted down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door, forgetting that Zim was downstairs and now probably quite concerned. Instead, I went to the garage, where I found Dib working on the controls of his pride and joy: Tak's crashed ship from her last visit. Why we hadn't used that against her yet was beyond me, but was probably also something Dib had come up with only that day. No time to dwell on that, though.

"Dib!" I called to him, despite being only ten feet away.

"Hold on a sec," he said, keeping his focus.

"DIB!" I screamed.

"Jeez, hold _on,_ I said!"

"Do I have to murder you to get you to listen to me?" I barked at him.

"This better be good," Dib warned me, standing and turning to face me, unimpressed.

"Tallest Miyuki is in my computer!"

"WHAT?" Dib yelped. He dropped what he was doing and followed me back inside and up the stairs.

"Oh, come _on!"_ I heard Zim shout after us. No time. He'd be upstairs soon enough, I was sure. I wanted to hear my brother's diagnosis of the situation first. After all, he was the paranormal investigator. Zim was the one haunted by thoughts and memories of Miyuki, a person he knew, mourned, and did not remember.

Once in my room, I pointed to my laptop on my bed. As if Dib couldn't figure out where it was on his own. For once, I felt like I was doing a 'normal little sister' thing. Some girls call on their older brothers to kill spiders. I ask mine to clear my computer of invading Irken parasites. Same thing, right? Dib picked up the computer, his eyes more focused than I had seen them in the past couple days.

"Did you hit continue?" he asked, studying the screen. I nodded. "It's just said _Miyuki_ this whole time?" I nodded again. "Why aren't you saying anything?" he then asked.

"Insufficient answer," the computer said. I saw my brother tense up. "Please state your name to continue with the bonus round."

Before I could advise him against it, Dib went for it. Such is the life of an investigator, I guessed. Always taking risks. Besides, this was more of a lead on anything than we'd had all day. Last night, it seemed like our lives were going to be awfully stagnant.

Well... in Zim's words... nothing never happens.

And something huge was about to.

"Dib," said my brother, his voice strong but careful.

"Insufficient data," the computer said again. "Please state your full name to continue."

"Full name?"

"Given name registered. Surname required."

Dib cast a glance back at me and I shrugged. He was the one giving his name to the eerie program on my computer, linked to the eerie game I'd picked up, not me. What he did now was up to him. Of course, our last name was something of a debate. At school, nobody really cared that we rarely, if ever, put our last name on documents. The truth was, we didn't know our last name. Or, well, we figured we did.

We go by Membrane. It's just strange to us because most people think of 'Membrane' as our Dad's first name, and that he must have a different surname that he just never gives out. The truth of it is, though, we don't know. Dad long ago hid all family documents. I remember enough about Mom's last name to know that it was something pretty, something Finnish, something I couldn't possibly remember. I vaguely, _vaguely_ remember my maternal grandparents; I knew they were because of their gorgeous names. Weird that I remember that they _had_ names, too, and yet Mom and Dad's first names were lost along with Dad's sanity. Dad must have been born with a regular last name, but as far as anyone was concerned now, he was just Professor Membrane.

"Membrane," said Dib, which took some effort. We go by Membrane, sure, but Dib hates saying it, because he associates it with our aloof father, for good reason. Dib has, since Dad's descent into scientific insanity, come to resent our father, and does almost everything in his power to be as unlike him as possible. Throwing the name 'Membrane' around is, therefore, not one of Dib's preferred activities.

"Repeat full name to continue," the computer requested.

At that minute, something crashed through my window.

"I MADE BISCUITS!" GIR cried, holding up a tray. I should have known.

As steam rose up from the tray of fresh baked goods GIR was holding, blue, snakelike sparks shot out from my computer and grabbed my brother by the wrists. Dib let out a yelp, and I screamed. It wasn't until I heard footsteps that I'd screamed Zim's name.

"HE HERE NOW!" squealed GIR. "Just in tiiiiime for the biscuits!"

Zim burst into the room and rushed up behind me, momentarily placing his hands on my shoulders as if to reassure me that he was there. Then, as we both took in the scene in front of us, I felt him tense up, as well.

"Repeat full name to continue," the computer repeated.

Dib was caught. Literally. The blue wires of electricity would not allow him to let go of my laptop, and, in that second, I felt a pang of guilt. I'd just had to go and get him. What if I'd done something horrible? What if I'd killed Dib with that request to help me?

Staring—I was sure—death in the face, Dib drew in a breath and said strongly:

"Dib Membrane."

"NO!" Zim and I shouted at once. My tone was one of panic, laced with the fear of loss. Zim's tone was stern and commanding. Zim, I theorized, knew exactly what was coming; even he knew, though, that he had come into the scene too late. Again, I started to beat myself up. I could have asked him to help, but no. Why hadn't I? I hadn't wanted to hurt him. And now what had I done? Hurt Dib ten times over.

"Player Two," said the computer. The voice held a hint of elation. "Welcome to the bonus round."

Sparks shot forth from the monitor, causing me to scream again as they snaked their way into Dib's body: into his temples, his neck, his wrists. His eyes.

When the sparks were finally gone, Dib dropped the laptop back on the bed and cried out, doubling over and holding his head. He shivered and shook, then straightened again and ripped off his trenchcoat, proclaiming, "It's fucking _hot in here!"_ The second he'd said that, he was shivering again.

"DIB!" I screamed, rushing up to him. Zim let me go, but I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that he had walked up to the laptop to examine it. I couldn't begin to worry about that now, though. Dib was trembling, reacting violently to the electric shocks. "Dib, what happened? Are you okay?" I'd never been so full of panic in my life. "Dib, answer me, come on!"

"I'm okay," he answered, though he did not sound sure. "I'm okay, but I-I can't really..." His body jerked and he winced forward again.

"Can't what?" My eyes were too dry. Otherwise I'd be crying, I knew it.

"See."

"WHAT?"

"Correctly."

"Huh?"

"ZIM!" I heard Zim shouting. I whirled around, while holding my brother up. Zim had grabbed the laptop and was hooked to it as Dib had been.

"Zim, what the hell are you doing?" I shouted. "What's going on? Someone tell me _something!"_

I was momentarily ignored by everyone but GIR, who walked up and tried to feed me a biscuit. I swept him aside and forced myself to watch Zim attempt to deal with the MIYUKI program on my computer.

"Zim!" he yelled at it again. "Invader Zim! Player Three, come on!"

"Repeat full name to continue."

"NO!" I tried again.

"Invader Zim!"

"Player Three," said the computer. "Welcome to the bonus round."

Dib straightened, so I looked back at him to see how he was faring, but I could tell from the shouts behind me that a similar episode to his was happening to Zim behind me. My heart was racing and my mind was breaking and I had no idea what was going on or what to do to make it stop or change.

Nothing could never happen now.

I examined the areas on Dib's skin where the shocks had penetrated. No signs of entry or even damage, which helped me breathe a little more easily. When he opened his eyes, though, I began to shake almost as violently as he had been moments ago. For a brief reprieve, I looked behind me, to see how Zim was holding up. He seemed fine, better than fine, really, except for the fact that the bandage around his upper right arm was soaked in fresh blood, probably brought on by the shock.

"Shit," he said, studying Dib. "It got me, but I couldn't reverse it for you. I'm sorry."

"Reverse what?" Dib wondered.

We saw it at the same time: the Irken insignia that replaced Miyuki's name on the monitor. _Warped_ had more than just the MiMi coincidence. It was Irken through and through, most likely planted by Tak to begin this new phase of her plan. Hadn't she said, on the roof, that she had wanted Dib on her side? That bitch had been plotting this turn of events all along. Clever, Tak, using a video game to make me buy right into it. This really was all just a game to her. Lives and consequences—just a game. Just a game to someone above it all, to an Irken Invader. Whether or not the voice in the computer truly belonged to the dead Tallest Miyuki was unimportant. What was important was the fact that Zim and Dib both shared a feature now.

The dark brown color of Zim's eyes, that I had been lost in so many times recently, was gone, replaced with the Irken red his eyes used to be. So much for being human forever. I shook all over, but I looked back up at my brother. At his features, just like I'd imagine Dad's to be; at the hint of Mom I could still see in him.

At his eyes.

Suddenly, I was the only person in the room with brown eyes.

-end part two-

**Song Credits:**

"The Way You Like It" - Adema

"Haunted" - Evanescence (I recommend you listen to the demo version, definitely!)

See you next Friday with part 3, the last part of TWFF!


	3. Part Three

**Author's Note:**

Part three of my old story, originally written between 2002-03. What follows is the final edit. This is the last part of TWFF! However, there is still more to come...

I can't say thank you enough to everyone who has so far read, reviewed, and favorited this story! I'm glad it is being read, and being enjoyed. :3

-Invader Zim is -c- Jhonen Vasquez.-

-All grammar and wordings herein are expressed and detailed in Gaz's writing.-

~Jizena~

**Time Warp Factor Five**

**Part Three**

I can accept a lot. I am a open person. Or, at least, I like to think that I am.

The MIYUKI program, however, tested the limits on what I found myself able to deal with while still keeping a shred of sanity about me. From day one of the time warp, Irken interference in my life had been constantly changing my views of what was possible, and what I had to accept to be true. There was, however, one thing that the Irkens, by any means, were not allowed to take from me; that they were not allowed to change:

My brother.

And yet there I stood, fearing what would come next, utterly disconnected from what I had always assumed was myself. The girl who lived in darkness, who alienated herself from all civil human activity, who went to great lengths to keep away from the crowd, was now faced with the reality of being alone. The bond, as family, that Dib and I were forming made the situation that much harder. The more I realized I needed him, the only real constant presence in my life, the more I began to worry about losing him. We hardly looked alike, but I had, if only secretly, prided our only similarity all my life. Now I stared at red irises rather than brown, and knew that I would have to choose carefully my next steps, actions and words, in order to prevent the Irkens from taking any more of him.

Whoever the hell Miyuki was, I hated her. Deceased be damned. I hated her.

Luckily, Dib was holding on well. The fits had calmed down once Zim had announced that he had planned to reverse whatever the current problem was. But my brother spoke slowly, knowing something was wrong.

"Reverse what?" he asked Zim again.

"Machinal influence," Zim explained, wincing as he grasped his right arm, just below the freshly bloody bandage wrapped around Tak's dagger wound. He shifted his gaze to me, and I felt myself shudder when I caught his eyes, red as well. "I don't understand the game's construct, but just after you two ran up here, the screen of your game shifted," he told me. "It said something about opening up that bonus round you mentioned, and that this thing just mentioned."

"And this thing," said Dib, pointing to the computer. "Is it really linked to somehow, or _is it_ somehow, a Tallest called 'Miyuki?'"

"As far as I can tell," Zim answered gravely, his attention back on my computer's screen. "Tallest Miyuki was known for her technological advancements. It's possible that her inventions would have outlasted her. Actually, scratch that. It's highly probably, and most likely true."

"Inventions..?" Dib mused. He took a step away from me and almost immediately held his head. His stance was off. He was dizzy, off-kilter. All I knew was that something had to be done, and soon, before those red eyes could cause any further Irken-like damage... "What else did Tallest Miyuki invent?"

"I don't entirely—" Zim began.

"Time travel..?" Dib tried. He cringed and rubbed at his eyes with the index finger and thumb of his right hand. "Did she make any advancements in time travel?"

"I—"

"IS TAK USING THINGS MADE BY THAT TALLEST?" Dib demanded.

"Oooooooooooooooooooh, somebody's _aaaaaaangryyyyyyyy,"_ GIR observed from one of my shelves (into which he blended quite well... I have a couple shelves containing inventions of my own: modified stuffed animals with killer appendages—look, they're neat, okay?—that Dad helped me draft up once before he went completely crazy). We all ignored him, which is usually one of the best things to do when GIR is around. Then again, he had proven himself useful a couple of times already. Oh, well. His non-sequiturs could be ignored, at least.

"I have no idea!" Zim shouted right back. "If I knew, I wouldn't be in this situation at all, now, would I?"

"God, Zim, you are so fucking useless!" Dib barked. Fed up, and with the spark of their animosity reunited, he lunged. Hurt arm and all, Zim was quick to stop him. Dib, having absolutely no fighting experience to speak of—minus some lucky strokes here and there—took a hit before he could think to deal one back again. I was too busy stewing over how damned angry I was at _a)_ Miyuki, _b)_ Dib's disturbing new eye color, and _c)_ the rest of the damn world. Otherwise I'd have stepped in sooner. I should have, too, because the next thing that happened was Dib grabbing Zim's neck, and Zim returning the favor.

"Oh, just try it," Zim challenged.

"Don't think I won't!"

"Hey, would you both shut up?" I snapped at them.

"Stay outta this, Gaz," my brother ordered.

"Hell, no!"

"Stay _out_ of—"

"NO." I took my only chance to step completely in between Zim and Dib, and, with all my strength, pushed them the length of my wingspan apart. Now, my arms certainly weren't as long as either of theirs, but the shove was just enough to get them to knock their senseless bickering off. "Look, I fucking hate everything that is going on right now," I said, flat-out, "and if I have to stop it alone, so help me I will, but it'd be just _great_ if you morons help me. Okay?"

"Gaz, I—" my brother tried.

"O_kay?"_ I repeated, giving him a death glare.

He didn't seem to care that his glasses were sliding off. He did notice that my death glare must not have cut as hard as it usually can, since I was still disturbed by what I was looking at. "Y-yeah," he gave in. "I'm with you."

"Zim?" I asked, shooting him the look as well. Zim backed down much faster than Dib had, and flashed a quick, apologetic smile when he took a step away from me. "Okay, good."

"Sorry," Zim added, for good measure. My eyes went to his wounded arm, then back to his expression. What the hell was that cut doing to him, anyway..? "All right," he sighed. "Let's just go through this. Um... game. Bonus round. Miyuki. Tak. You needed, what? A code? Let's start there."

"Just what I was thinking," I lied. It was bothering me that I was technically being beaten at a video game at that moment. Sure, we weren't actually playing, but I consider tossing around knowlege about video games playing, too. I'm so fucking serious about my games. Shrugging off my discontent, I retrieved the game case and handed it to Zim. "Upper corner, there, see?" Zim peered at the back of the case, probably searching for hidden Irken runes or something to that effect, then shrugged.

"80891," he read. "As far as I can remember, that's nothing special. Nothing that would suggest—"

"My birthday..." Dib said, barely audibly. He grabbed the case from Zim's hands and glared at the code. After a second, he shook his head and removed his glasses. When I asked him about that later, he confided in me that the electric shock effect had changed his vision. He was able to view the world more accurately, more precisely—in other words, it cured him of his nearsightedness, but in return, his eyes felt like they were encased in red cellophane. Everything in the world, he told me, was shaded in red. It looked, Dib told me only about a day ago, like war.

No wonder the Irkens are so obsessed with destruction, if that's the way their eyes work.

Dib gave the code another once-over, then held it up to the screen, as if to catch it on webcam. "Is this some kind of sick joke?" he demanded of the program. "80891. August eighth, 1991! Am I right?"

The computer program, the woman's voice, laughed. I've seen and heard a lot of disturbing and unbelievable things in my life, but that was one of the worst.

Even Zim backed off at this point. He and I exchanged a quick, nervous look. Neither of us knew how to proceed, which in itself was terrifying. For a moment, I thought that Zim's... you know... background in, oh, having grown up Irken, could possibly have shed some kind of light on what we were dealing with, but, no, even he was lost. Then again, I reminded myself right away, he wasn't the smartest Irken out there—far from it—and he had only just confided in me that sixty years of his life surmounted to a big gaping hole in his memory.

"AM I RIGHT?" Dib repeated, losing his temper something awful.

"Player Two," said the computer. "Advanced."

"Don't just feed me bullshit!" Dib shouted. "That tells me nothing. Tell me why the code was my birthday, and how you _knew!_ Who _are you?"_

"Dib Membrane, you are an investigator," said the computer. I shivered again. I wanted the answer as much as he did, but at the same time, I didn't. The more I learned about all the weird stuff Dib had devoted his life to, the less I could walk away from it. It was seeming more and more like soon I'd never be able to walk away again. I'd be involved for good. As someone who normally likes to leave well enough alone, this didn't settle well. Still... nobody gets away with traumatizing my brother but me. "You were born on August eighth, 1991. You have posession of an Irken ship—"

"Oh, for shit's sake," Dib growled. "Now I _know_ Tak's behind this! She just wants her ship back! Tell me what's up with my—"

"—which requires an Irken pilot," the computer went on, ignoring him. "Keep the eyes. Your perceptability will—"

"I don't want them!" Dib argued. "Fix it!"

"Player Three is still active," said the computer. I instinctively looked over at Zim. "Both must advance, or both must decline."

Dib whipped around to look at Zim. For a moment, I expected further argument between the two, but instead, I got a silent stare-down. And I saw it: Dib was pleading with his old enemy. I got it at that point... what the computer was talking about, I mean. About advancing or declining. Both get the ability gained in the bonus round of the 'game,' or both give it up. In other words, the prize this time was a step away from being human and a step closer to being Irken. Half of our whole goal this time was getting Zim back to being Irken, which had, just earlier in the day, seemed like a reachable goal (as far as Zim himself had told me, with his new philosophy). It would be harder, if he gave it up now.

Zim didn't take long to convince. "I quit," he said firmly. "It's all up to you."

"Then I refuse," said Dib. "I want my eyes back."

"Noted," said the computer. "Procedures are in place. Players One and Four are present—"

"Shut up!" I yelled, storming up to the computer. I ran every possible way to quit the program, but it persisted, still spouting out random garbage that I could not make sense of. "Quit, damn you!" I tried. It continued. Without thinking, I shouted, "I can't take it anymore!" And with that, I seized the laptop and hurled it across the room. Against the far wall, it shattered. Blue sparks flew everywhere, and the broken computer remains piled up on the floor, smoldering.

Everyone was silent for a minute. I turned to look at my brother, recovering from the second wave of electric shock, and Zim, faring only slightly better. "You have to admit," I said, heaving out a breath, "that was getting pretty annoying."

Dib blinked in astonishment, then snapped out of his state of shock. "My eyes…" he began hesitantly. "Are they…"

"They're fine," I assured him, examining his eye color. "They're brown again." That was more than a relief. Even though we'd backpedaled, it felt like now we'd beaten something huge. I hadn't wanted to look at those red eyes a second longer.

After a beat, Zim asked, "And mine?"

I sensed he was eager, and I almost lied to him, just to see him less depressed.

"Brown," I answered, giving in to the truth. "Sorry."

Zim shrugged. "It's okay," he said. "I just… it's okay."

Before I could ask him what he was about to say, I noticed GIR, out of the corner of my eye, walk over to the broken computer. He cocked his head to the side, looking it over. It occurred to me that, being what he is, GIR must feel some sympathy for machines. His eyes turned red and he kicked at the wreck.

"It's too soon anyway," he said, displaying no emotion.

"Huh?" I wondered. "What's too soon?"

GIR looked up at me, eyes back to normal. "Biscuit?" he offered, grinning.

I moaned. I should have known I wouldn't get a straight answer. Not from _him._

But to this day it bothers me: what _was_ he talking about? He'd been acting different lately, and this proved it. He has a secret even now, and I still haven't figured it out. There's more to that little robot than he leads you to believe, I can tell you that much. But I have yet to find out just what it is.

"Should we be worried?" Dib asked Zim.

"About Miyuki?" Zim replied. "No. Not yet, anyway."

"What do you mean, 'not yet?'"

"I mean not until we're through with Tak," said Zim. I saw him tense up. "Miyuki is dead. She's dead, she isn't our problem right now. Tak is obviously still around, or coming back, or something."

Dib, back once again in annoying paranormal investigator mode, folded his arms and scowled. "Doesn't change that it doesn't worry me," he said. "Who was she? She must be important to our current—"

"NO ONE!" Zim lashed out. "She's no one anymore, okay, she's _dead!"_

"Well, was that her?" Dib wondered, pointing to the sad remains of my computer.

"Yes! I don't know! Why don't we drop it?"

Stupid me, I pushed the issue further, without thinking: "Zim, who was she to you?"

"I—DON'T—REMEMBER." His tone was straight and firm, and for the first time in days he glared at me with contempt. "I don't remember and you would both do well to shut up about it! Do you really want to hear something? Do you? Sounds like you do, so here you go: wanna know why I'm the most hated Invader in the army? Wanna know why the entire Armada hates me? Yeah, I know they hate me. Every single one of them hates me, Tak was right! Because I killed her. I killed her, _I KILLED HER."_ Tears came to his increasingly human brown eyes, but once again refused to be released. "I killed the most valuable person the Empire has ever known, and I can't even remember doing it. I can't re—fuck!"

As Zim bent over himself in mental anguish, grabbing at his bangs with both hands, my brother strategically placed himself in front of me just enough to show that Zim was getting nowhere close to me any time soon.

"Hey," Dib said strongly, taking full control of whatever the hell was going on. "I have a lot of questions for you."

"Who says I'll answer?" Zim spat back, still grabbing angrily at his hair.

"Zim, this is important!" Dib shot. "We have two tasks right now: get you back to being Irken, and get the hell back home, back to the way things are supposed to be. We can't acheive the second without the first, and we keep digging ourselves deeper into some larger plot than Tak's stupid lies and schemes, and—"

"Jeez, then, good luck," said Zim bitterly, straightening.

"What?"

"Yeah, good luck! Good luck, because every step we take makes me more human." His eyes fell on me for a second, before they narrowed to challenge Dib again. "And you know what? I'm fine with it. Bring it on." He outstretched his arms. "I could do much worse than this right now, you know? I can start over. I can forget everything. And right now, I want to! I resign as an Invader! Good luck on the rest, but if you need me just for Irken knowledge, count me out."

"Zim—"

"See you in school tomorrow," he muttered before leaving the room. I started after him, but Dib grabbed my arm.

"Dib, lemme go," I commanded, scowling up at my brother. He did not, and his eyes narrowed, telling me that there was only one thing that was going to happen for the rest of that afternoon: we were going to talk. I probably was not going to like it. Lovely. Just fantastic. Defeated already, much to my chagrin, I sighed and gave in, but wrenched my arm free of Dib's grip nonetheless. "Okay," I growled, "what?"

"BISCUIT!" GIR screamed. We both turned our attention on the annoying little robot, who did some kind of breakdance, pelted us each with a biscuit, then flew out the window. That thing really had the power to confuse the hell out of me. One minute, he was screaming and making no sense whatsoever with his words, and then next he'd go and do something useful... or creep me out with weird prophetic lines like the one he had uttered only minutes ago.

Dib squatted down to retrieve the biscuits and his previously discarded trench coat, and said, "You know, this actually reminds me that I'm kinda hungry."

"I'm not," I muttered. That whole Miyuki ordeal had made me lose what little appetite I'd had all day.

"You still need to eat. I'm getting worried about you."

Okay, this was new. "Huh?" I wondered, for clarity.

"I said you should eat," Dib repeated, standing and pulling on his coat. "It isn't—"

"No, the other thing."

"What, I'm worried about you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Dib shrugged. "I'm your brother. I need a reason?" I was too addled to speak. Dib sensed this, and started to go. "Come on," he urged. "We'll find something for dinner and then, well, I think we both have some things to say."

He'd gotten to the stairs before my feet let me follow. Everything was turning and spinning and rocketing out of reality; life was working its odd ways and changing too much all at once. Plus, too much was getting thrown at me for my comfort. Zim was human. I accepted that. I liked that. I was more or less his girlfried. Okay, whatever. Of course, now he had to go and get all worked up based on the MIYUKI program, and I'd been no help in that. He was losing his grip on his own reality, but had basically admitted that I kept him grounded. I made myself a mission for the next day: figure out what the hell was wrong with him. That, I realized, could take a while, so I whittled it down to _talk to him._ Whatever would come of that.

Then there was Dib. I was getting more and more concerned for him. We'd bonded lately, but the courses of his actions led me to believe that perhaps he was getting too sucked into this current, warped reality. Whether or not his latent acceptance of all these changes was directly influenced by Tak was beyond me, but not beyond the realm of possibility. I think that's what I hated most about her: she kept pushing boundaries like that. And now Dib had just had too close a brush with the Irkens—a program, rooted in the mechanical memory of some ancient Tallest, had infiltrated his body like a parasite and turned his eyes red. Had it done anything else? Sure, he looked fine now, eyes back to normal and everything, but how was I to know whether or not anything else had gone wrong..?

More than anything, I just wanted to get back to normal. As much as I liked a great many things that were coming of this experience, it wasn't right. None of it was natural. Hopefully, that was what Dib wanted to talk about, too.

I joined him in the kitchen, where he milled around a little, looking for food. Dad isn't the best at keeping a lot of things around, so we settled for microwavable frozen burritos. There were three in the fridge, each a different kind, and Dib nuked all three, kindly taking the pulled pork one for himself (I've hated pork products ever since a recent incident that I can't even bring myself to write out for fear of puking up bad memories) and giving me one with chicken; we split the third, just rice and beans. I'm not completely partial to Mexican food. I prefer pizza. But that would have taken a while and required that Dib know something about ovens (I'll note that neither of us was in the mood to pick up the phone, which made takeout a big no), so burritos it was.

As I picked at mine, eating with a fork to force down bigger portions than I actually felt like eating, Dib asked how I was doing. I shrugged. He asked again, so I demanded to know what he meant.

"You looked really shaken upstairs," he said, distantly. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay, that's all..."

"Shaken?" I repeated, slamming down my fork. "I was watching my brother and my bo—_best_ friend," I corrected quickly, "getting led around by some weird Irken... I don't even know what! And I couldn't do anything! I hate being useless."

"Really? Because as long as I've known you, you've left well enough alone," my brother observed, a more stern edge to his voice this time.

"I—well, sure," I said, realizing my mistake. "No... I mean, I do, it's just that lately, things have gotten way too weird. Why? Are you mad at me for being concerned for you?"

"You were?" Dib wondered.

"Um... yeah..."

"Oh..." Dib drifted off, and looked guilty for a second. He had been bound and determined to spend our dinner conversation railing on me about something or other to do with Zim, I was sure, but now I had control. I didn't use that control to take advantage of anything on the Zim front, though, or even to leave. Instead, I started speaking my mind again.

"I know I usually leave well enough alone," I told him as I pushed aside the last of my dinner. "And it'd be nice if I still could. Every single day, though, I get sucked further into this weird world you've always been chasing after, and I'm realizing I don't wanna lose you to it. Can I tell you what really worries me, Dib?"

"Huh? Sure, what?"

I took a deep breath, and told him something I have never even had the guts to write down, for inner fear of it happening: "Losing you like we lost Dad." That hit a bad chord, and Dib recoiled, then leaned forward, his elbows on the new table that had appeared with the new kitchen, and buried his head in his hands. "Having you around," I continued, "but not here."

"Dad went crazy because of his work," Dib said in a quick whisper.

"Yeah, and you almost got branded with Irken red eyes because of yours." I wasn't being argumentative, just stating a truth. "Look, maybe it took until Tak shooting to kill me to get what these Irkens are really after, or to even start mistrusting them the way you do, but I do now, and I don't like that Miyuki person for what she almost did to you."

"Well, then, do you get my angle, then?" he asked of me, dropping his arms so that they were folded on the table, looking at me through his glasses with genetically proper brown eyes. "Why I don't trust Zim?"

"Zim's human," I said flatly. "Or, at least, he wants to be."

"Tak is a liar and so is he, all right?"

"Dib, I wish you'd _talk_ to him before jumping to conclusions!" Oh, dammit, it was turning into the shitstorm Dib had wanted all along. Dib offered no answer, so I took my chance: "I'm going to be talking to him tomorrow about what just happened upstairs. If you get a chance, any chance at all, you should, too. You'll find out he's not such a bad guy, all right?"

Surprisingly, Dib leaned back, sighed, corrected his glasses by sliding them up the ridge of his nose, and said, "All right. I will. No bias. Just talk."

"I wanna be there for it," I added.

"No way," said Dib. "You two've had plenty of conversations on your own. I'm not going to pry about anything, I'm just going to see how human he actually is. And if I can tell whether or not he's lying about anything."

My brother, the human lie detector? Please. I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I said. "But, just... one thing before that."

"What?"

"You said you saw us..." I began, not wanting to add the action in there.

Dib snorted, and massaged his left temple. "Yeah," he said, sounding put off. "I'd gone out for a walk that night, came back, looked up, you fill in the rest."

_Okay, good, it was just once._ I grinned inwardly.

"It wasn't much," I tried to dismiss.

Dib nodded as a way to toss the thought aside. "I'll get his side of it tomorrow." To switch gears, he added, "By the way, while I was rooting through files in Tak's ship earlier, I discovered something interesting."

"What?"

"Her complete attack has always been about emotion. Right from the start. Why else would she have shown up first on Valentine's Day?"

"Valentine's Day is stupid," I muttered.

"Yeah, but people buy into emotion more than usual that time of year," Dib pointed out. "My guess is, she's known plenty about humans for quite some time. If you ask me, psychological warfare is a lot more dangerous than that lava thing she tried last time."

"Are you trying to warn me..?" I guessed, darkening my tone.

"All I'm saying is, be careful."

As we were both about to stand and clean up after dinner, I decided to end the conversation on my terms, and to make it about him: "Really, though, Dib, are your eyes all right? Are _you?"_

To my instant relief, my brother smiled. "I'm fine," he told me. "Really. Still a little shocked from what happened, but I'm feeling a lot better. It was really disorienting while it was happening, but I think I can sleep off the rest of the dizziness that came from it."

"That's good," I sighed.

I wasn't completely convinced, though, because I noticed something a moment later. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but I could distinctly see small flecks of red in Dib's eyes. Like the mirror shards caught in the eyes of the child in _The Snow Queen,_ they were barely noticeable, but worrisome nonetheless. I could only hope it was a trick of the light. I didn't want to lose Dib to his work, but losing him to the Irkens would have been even worse.

– – –

I walked into the English room the next morning not caring that my homework was, once again, half-assed. For some reason, the English teacher made us read the first page of each of our short story assignments aloud.

_"For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen,"_ begins _The Black Cat,_ _"I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence."_

_Damn,_ I thought. _I could start a story of my life this way._

The highlight of first period, though, was that Kiki was not there. The air in the room was about 86% less congested with perfume than it had been a few days ago when she _was_ in class.

I honestly don't know _why_ I was in Drama. "I can't act," I muttered as I entered the auditorium for second period. "Maybe I'll just leave during class."

The only other person in the room when I entered was Tak.

_So she is still here,_ I thought, smirking.

I walked up to her, stupidly enough. "You fucking bitch," I said to her. "I'm gonna claw your eyes out."

She looked up from where she was sitting. "I think, perhaps, I will kill you," she responded.

"Fair enough," I shrugged.

Other students started filing in, so I got as far away from them as I could.

Ms. Burns decided to have us read the original _Taming of the Shrew_ to "get a feel for the play and characters, and discover the motivation." What was she _on?_

About halfway through the class, things got interesting. I heard the side door open and close, and the room fell silent.

"Is… ah… is this the right room?"

I looked up from my script and scanned the room.

"Auditorium, right? Sorry I'm late."

I knew it! It was Zim. He looked a little uneasy, but, then again, why wouldn't he? He had a backpack slung over one shoulder (his left, I noticed), and headphones temporarily around his neck, the cord leading into the front pocket of the bag.

"Oh," said Ms. Burns. "You must be Zim. Transferring from… which class was it?"

Zim shrugged. "Nothing important," he replied. "I don't remember."

"I see. Do you have the transfer slip?"

Zim dug into his pocket and fished out a folded piece of paper. "Y'mean this?"

"Yes." Ms. Burns turned to address us. "I'll just be a moment. Take this time to read through your scripts. Zim, feel free to take a seat."

"Sure."

Not surprisingly, he made his way to the back of the auditorium and sat diagonally in front of me. He hesitated on removing his backpack, but he finally just slid it onto the floor and took off the headphones.

He took out a pen and a pad of paper and began writing something feverishly. He didn't turn around, or even speak to me, until class was almost over.

"Hey," he said about two minutes before the bell. "My next period is study hall. Yours?"

"Same."

"Good. Get a library pass. I have to talk to you."

Without questioning him, I did as he said. We met up in the library, in a corner far from activity.

"Look, first thing that needs to happen is I need to apologize," said Zim in a hushed tone, hiding his eyes from me. "I'm sorry I froze yesterday. I just... I don't know what happened. Plus, I... well... I can't completely recall how it all happened..."

I was beyond confused. "Explain..?"

"Well," said Zim, "my mind's kinda hazy. I remember resolving those Miyuki issues, but the conversations aren't too clear. The next thing I can remember is waking up this morning."

"So… you don't remember denouncing your life as an Invader, and declaring that you wanted to 'start over?'"

"Not exactly. Did I say that?"

"More or less."

Zim ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "Dammit," he cursed, muttering. "It's getting worse."

"What's getting worse?"

_"Me," _Zim answered. "It's happened before. I blank out and it's like some other will takes over. It never exceeds ten or twenty minutes, but still…"

He glanced around to make sure no one else was listening.

"I don't know what _it_ is," he went on, "but I know it's not normal."

"Huh," I said. "Well, it's good to know you're not giving up, that's for sure. Maybe it's paranormal. Maybe Dib can––"

"I was afraid you'd say that," Zim groaned.

"Oh, come _on._ Dib's helped you _plenty _of times!"

"Yeah," Zim shot back unscathingly, "enough for us to have a partial friendship!"

"Is _that_ it?" I guessed. "Afraid of turning an enemy into a friend?"

"Pretty much. I mean, I don't mind it _now,_ but once I'm back to really being myself…"

"Irken, you mean."

"What? _Irken?_ Oh, right."

Zim put his head in his hands. "God, it really _is_ getting worse…"

"Zim..." I tried, instinctively setting a hand on his arm. _Fore_arm, but he still winced back. When he noticed I wasn't going for the cut, he relaxed a little and set his left hand over mine, as if that was all that was keeping him stable and clinging to the world beneath his feet. "You said yesterday you were getting flashes from... way before," I recalled. "But now you're forgetting current events?"

"It's weird," he admitted. "My mind is just one big mess. I know Tak's behind it somehow, I just know it. She's the only one with the ability right now to jerk my head around like this. Remind me of things, rip them away, make me start over, mix around my sense of reality..."

"If it's any consolation," I said, "you seemed really in control at the start. I mean, you came right up and—what was that all about with the player numbers and stuff?"

"It was the order we started the game, when we played against you that night," Zim shrugged. "In the actual videogame."

"Oh. Well, you caught that way before I did, then," I admitted, feeling a little dumb about missing that obvious detail. "I'm serious. You seemed so in control..."

Zim rolled his eyes. "Then I'm better at faking it than I thought."

"Faking it?"

"Heh, yeah. As an Invader, I've been faking it for a while," he admitted with a nervous grin. "Faking being strong, faking knowing I have a clue about what's going on. There's only one thing I've ever really wanted," he went on, his tone turning ever more solemn as he spoke.

"Yeah?" I wondered. "What's that?"

At first, I believed that Zim hesitated. A moment later, I realized he was pausing for effect. A small silence was finally broken with a single word:

"Acceptance."

_You and me both... sorta,_ I realized, but did not say out loud.

"I thought I wanted acceptance from the Empire," said Zim. "Mainly from the Tallest. Lately, I'm seeing how out of reach that acceptance really is."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And, I mean... even though I am slipping, I just... dammit, I don't _know_ what I want," he groaned. "I mean, I do want things to go back to normal, on one hand. I do. Things would be less complicated. Plus, it's how I'm supposed to be. If I stay like this, I'll lose, well... myself. I've already told you that. I've known that for a while. But staying here really doesn't seem like too bad an option." His grip on my hand tightened. "I'd have you. You'd keep me sane, right..?"

I choked on whatever words I was going to say, and fumbled out an, "I'd try."

Zim smiled, then looked away, as if searching another dimension, another place in time.

"You okay?" I wondered. Dumb question, Gaz.

"It's hard to say," Zim admitted. "Y'know, I wish I could just _talk_ to Tak… see what she's truly up to."

"Wouldn't we _all,"_ I concurred, rolling my eyes.

At that moment, a girl walked toward our general direction. She was younger than me, and shorter, too. She looked studious, though, and her type are usually quick to catch up on a couple of slackers like us.

"Look busy," I whispered, grabbing a random book off of the nearest shelf and opening it quickly. Zim did the same.

The girl stopped, looked at a note scrawled on her left hand, then looked up. "Oh…" she fumed. "It _figures_ it's on the top shelf." She tried reaching for the book she needed, but couldn't quite grab it.

I snickered a little at her expense. It was pretty funny.

"Um…" she said slowly, addressing the two of us. "Do you think… maybe… um… could I get some help?"

_Sure could,_ I thought and almost said.

I glanced over at Zim, implying that _I_ sure as hell wasn't going to help her, let alone anyone. Zim rolled his eyes, stood, and quickly removed the book from the top shelf. He sat back down and unemotionally gave the book to the girl. "Here," he said.

"Thanks," said the girl, blushing. Her eyes lit up. "Oh, wow, you're really _hot!"_ she exclaimed. So much for the shy and silent type.

"You'll notice I have a girlfriend," Zim remarked plaintively. I cleared my throat.

"Oh, yes, well…" the girl stuttered. "I… I'm sorry. Thanks for your help!"

With that, she quickly hurried off.

"Humans are so annoying," Zim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

"They don't think twice about speaking their thoughts, either, it seems," I added.

"Yeah," Zim agreed.

I looked down at the random book I'd grabbed and laughed. "Hey," I said to change the subject, "check this out. Isn't that gross?"

I turned the book (which was obviously a biology reference book of some sort) to face Zim. He folded his arms across the table and looked down at the open page. "What kind of human affliction is _that?"_ he asked, reading the book skeptically. "That's just disgusting," he remarked, laughing.

"Yep, this world sure is a strange place," I said, putting the book away.

"Yeah…" said Zim. "Sure is."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then the conversation once again switched gears. "Anything else you want to talk about?" I asked Zim.

"Nah, not really," he answered. "Oh… do you think I could stop by tonight," he wondered, "so that the three of us can talk?"

"Sure," I said. "Come by around eight. That's usually when Dad leaves for work again."

"Thanks."

"Wanna tell me what's up?" I asked.

"Later," said Zim. "But it's important."

"Oh," I added quickly, "before I forget, um... Dib might be talking with you soon, one on one. Just thought I should warn you."

"And what a delight that's sure to be," Zim remarked, which actually made me laugh. He grinned, and leaned in to make us stand out even more as non-studious...

And that was when the bell rang.

"Damn," I cursed. Zim stole a quick kiss before pulling back. "Stupid bell. It makes me feel organized, running on a schedule like this."

We stood and walked together to the library doors. Before I could make a move down the stairs to my right, I felt Zim's hand on my shoulder.

"Gaz…" he said, keeping his voice low.

I turned.

"I just really wanted to thank you," Zim continued, grinning. "You have no idea how much you really are helping me through this."

"No problem," I told him sincerely.

Zim let out a sigh of relief (why relief, I don't know, but it wasn't one of his painful sighs), kissed the top of my head, then allowed himself to continue down the hall with the rest of the crowd. Then, I sighed… and mine was painful. I felt so sorry for him. That moment helped me realize yet again how very human he really had become.

Have you ever noticed how tightly packed school hallways are? It's pedestrian traffic at its worst; it's like watching cows ambling in line to the slaughterhouse. Thanks to that visual, watching dozens of meat-laden skeletons crowd the hallways, I finally came to that aforementioned realization. Because he was Irken, Zim always stood out in a crowd, but not anymore. He blended right in. He didn't even _hint_ at the fact that he was Invader Zim, that he wasn't supposed to be human.

I continued thinking about this on my way down to the cafeteria. It was all Tak's fault, and I knew it, but I still couldn't help feeling as though I was partially to blame for loving him as much as I did. Even though Tak was a terribly disorganized liar, she'd done a great job on Zim; I'll grant her that.

He'd changed so much. He really was like a completely different person. Tak's plan, or what have you, was definitely emotion-based, and it seemed as though Zim had been subject to a tangle of them all at once.

I thought back to the night I'd cried. For almost eleven years, I hadn't cried once, and that's why it had lasted so long… because I let out ten and a half years worth of bottled emotions. I wondered, then, if that's what was happening to Zim. He'd lived quite a long life as an Irken, but I imagined that now, with his new human mindset, that looking back on all those years must really have been messing with his head. Plus, there was the missing part.

I didn't quite know what to think of Miyuki: why she mattered, what Zim really thought of her, and how (or even if) she played a part in all of this.

When I got to the cafeteria, the noise level was overwhelming, as always, so my brain went into screen saver mode: not thinking, but not doing nothing.

"Oh, my God, is it _true?"_ I heard Zita ask, catching up with me. I'd almost forgotten about her.

"Huh?" I said, snapping back into reality (or whatever). "Is what true?"

"Are you and Zim _actually_ going _out?"_ Zita pried, full of anticipation.

"Where'd you hear that?" I wanted to know.

"Aki's little sister," grinned Zita. "She said she saw you two in the library, and that Zim _totally_ admitted to it."

I wanted to smack her for using the word "totally" the way she did, but, for some weird reason, I didn't.

"So are you?" Zita had to know.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "Why's it so important?"

"I dunno; it's something to talk about, that's all."

"With _whom?"_ I wondered. "It only involves _us._ Why should it be of any concern to you or anyone else? Is there really nothing else you _possibly_ could talk about?"

Zita fell silent, then said, "It's just _gossip,_ Gaz," she said. "It's nothing serious. I just like having the facts straight. I don't spread rumors."

"Uh-_huh,"_ I returned doubtfully.

"Okay, maybe once in a while," confessed Zita. "Oh! I bet you'd like this one…"

"Enlighten me," I said, sounding just as bored as I was.

"Tak says she's got her eye on your brother," said Zita, grinning.

If only Zita knew what Tak _really_ meant. I kept my guard up anyway.

"In my opinion, someone like Tak would really be _good_ for your brother," Zita went on. "Get that psychotic Gretchen off his back."

"That's a real problem, huh?" I asked. Crap! No, Gaz, no, I warned myself. Don't get into the rumors circle! Bad girl!

"The girl just can't take a hint," Zita laughed. Then, she smiled almost too sincerely at me. "Anyway, if you and Zim really _are_ going out, and I'm not saying that I'll be letting anyone else know, I wanted to congratulate you for hooking up with him, and _thank_ you, too. You should _see_ the girls in our English class. _God."_ She rolled her eyes. "Plus, he seems like a really nice guy. Nothing like he was back in fourth grade."

_That's because he's human, _I wanted to say.

"Thanks," came out instead.

The rest of the day went by quickly, which was a welcome surprise. When we got home, I made the sadistic choice to play _Warped_ again, while Dib went back to the garage to work more on Tak's ship. I hadn't asked whether or not he'd talked to Zim, or to Tak for that matter. Oh, well. I could do my own damn investigating. I had to find out more about Miyuki. The game seemed the obvious answer. This time, still selecting the MiMi character, I started up a new one-player mission mode.

It opened simply with my character running through an abandoned alley, as though being chased. She turned, and a bright purple light washed over her, and the screen went to black.

_"Non sum qualis eram,"_ the female voice-over spoke while the image shifted once again. I stupidly wondered if Irkens knew Latin.

The next sequence of events leading into gameplay showed my character entering a library––huge one, too. There was an open book on a table closeby, to which she walked confidently. She leafed through the pages, then placed her index finger on the page to point out a certain word.

"Space-time," she read. "A four-dimensional way of describing events and locations with three units of distance and one of time. The whole or a portion of physical reality. Under the influence of gravity, space-time can actually warp or bend…" She flipped a few pages to another word.

"Time warp," she read. My eyes widened. "An anomaly, discontinuity, or suspension held to occur in the progress of time…"

She closed the book. "So the warp must be monitored by gravity," she said. "Then… reversing the effect should be easy, with dilation and relativity in effect, of course."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This could not be coincidental. Someone was trying to get a message to me. It _had_ to be that.

My character left the library, and the voiceover spoke again. "If Earth is all that was set off balance," it said, "gravity can be controlled… slowed to pull the planet back into the proper sphere of space-time…"

Before I could go any further, someone behind me cleared his throat. I turned, and I think my heart skipped twice.

_"DAD?"_ I stuttered. "What are you––"

"Do you have a job yet?" he asked me.

"Well… _no,_ but…"

Dad shook his head. "Gaz, you need to get out of this house right now and find one," he ordered. "The next time I see you, you had better be employed, or you'll have to pay off your debt working at my laboratory in town; do I make myself clear?"

I groaned, and reluctantly turned off the game console. I did _not_ want to work for my father. If I did, I'd have no time to myself and, therefore, no time to do anything about Tak. I scuffed my feet angrily as I walked to the door.

"I'm glad we have an understanding," Dad said. "I'll be leaving in three hours, and I won't be home until tomorrow. By then, you and your brother had better have jobs."

"Okay, Dad," I mumbled.

With that, I walked out.

"This _sucks!"_ I shouted as I walked into town. In a rage, I slammed my fist into a stop sign as hard as I could. It must not have been very durable, because it fell to the ground on impact. I heard screeching, a loud crash, and sirens and car alarms blaring when I rounded the next corner.

I stood on the sidewalk leading into the shopping district. I didn't want to work with or around people, but in this town, I had no choice. I moaned and walked into the nearest store. It was the bookstore I'd visited earlier in the week. The lights were dim––good. They were playing real music (in this case, Collide)––very good.

I walked up to the service counter. "I need a job," I said plaintively.

"Well, we are hiring," said the man behind the desk. "What experience do you have?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I… read?"

"GOOD! Well, that's a step up from most of our current staff! Here," he said, pulling out a form and handing it to me. "Just fill this out and come back tomorrow. You can start then."

"O… kaaay…" I blinked. Was getting a job always this easy? "Uh… thanks," I forced myself to say. I folded up the form, put it in my skirt pocket, and started walking out.

At the door, I collided with someone. "Ow," I spat.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the woman apologized. "I––oh, hello, Gaz!"

I went red, I knew it. I recognized the woman right off once she'd said that. Zim's mother. It was still hard to believe she existed the way she did. "Hi…" I started. Oh, damn! Zim didn't have a _surname_ now, did he? Even if he did, I didn't know it. Shit! I thought. "Uh… you…" I decided on. Great. _That's_ boosting my chance at ever speaking to Zim again.

Luckily, she didn't pay it any mind. "How interesting," she smiled, "running into you here!"

"Yeah…" I agreed, kind of muttering.

"Well," Zim's mother lilted, "my husband is getting home from his business trip tonight! He's always so busy… I'll bet you feel the same about your father, don't you? Always working, that man…"

"You know my _dad?"_ I blurt out.

"Oh, heavens, yes!" Zim's mother laughed. "What a silly question."

What the hell was going on?

"Well, I should be going," she went on. "I've got to grab myself a new recipe book and get back to my kitchen! What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I… uh… just got a job…"

"What a good girl!" she trilled, clapping her hands onto my shoulders in an annoying motherly fashion. "You're such a busy girl, and only fifteen! I'm sure your mother would be very proud!"

What kind of weird reality was this? Did _everything_ change when Zim turned human? I mean, his mother was going on about my parents as though they'd been friends for years! What thehell was going on?

"It's a shame about your mother…" she said dulcetly, lowering her voice. "You know, you're starting to look just like her." She squeezed my shoulders. "Well, I've held you up too long," she said. "You must have things to do. Goodbye, now! Take care, dear!"

"Yeah, see ya," I said in return.

I walked out of the bookstore, my mind littered with questions of the most unusual sort. Before I could ask any, however, my watch beeped and started vibrating. I held my wrist up. I knew it was my brother calling me. I warned him mentally that it had better be important.

"What is it, Dib?" I asked.

"Where are you?"

"In town, getting a stupid job. Why?"

"I just thought you'd be home is all. Listen, I have some new information on Tak."

"You're sure it's accurate?"

"Pretty sure."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever we can find, I guess," I sighed.

"You seem stressed," Dib observed.

"Why _wouldn't_ I be? I just ran into Zim's mom, and I think this whole thing is deeper than we may think."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'll tell you when I get home. It's really complicated."

"Well, get here as quickly as you can," urged Dib.

"Sure."

We ended the transmission, and I started to pick up my pace. It seemed that, the longer we stayed there, in the 'future,' the weirder things got. I prayed that was what Dib had dug up: information as to why that was.

When I got home, I concluded that my father, intelligent as he is, has a poor concept of time. I was gone for less than an hour. He said he'd be leaving in _three_ hours. He was gone now. I don't know what goes on in his mind, and I don't think I'll ever want to. Either way, Dib and I were alone.

"You," I said to my brother plainly, walking into his room otherwise unannounced, "explain things."

Dib spun around in his computer chair to face me. "Sorry," he said, "but I guess I don't have as much information as I thought."

"Well, what _do_ you have?" I asked, sprawling out on his bed. Wait… why the… _fuck_ did I do that? Lie on my brother's bed? Who knows what kind of paranormal pesticides he'd sprayed that thing down with?

"Not much," Dib apologized. "Just that Tak has a long history of lying––it's gotten her in a lot of trouble before––and that she designed MiMi herself."

"Huh," I remarked. "That MiMi thing is really weird, you know. Tak must be good at creating complex things and nothing else."

"Yeah," Dib agreed. "Like that lava pump she construed last time. And a lot of the controls on her ship."

"Her ship?"

"I seriously think that's part of her aim this time," he speculated. I checked his eyes. The light was dim, and I saw no red. I told myself it had to have been the light before. "She gets attached to her creations."

"Mmm," I said. "Hey, Dib," I went on, sitting up. "What's up with Zim's mom, anyway? How'd Tak do that? Genetic engineering?"

"Probably, I guess. Why do you bring that up?"

"Well, why would Tak go through all the trouble to create a normal human environment for Zim to live in? Why not just turn him human and leave him here?"

"Good question," commented Dib. "Yeah, that _is_ weird."

"What's _weirder_ is that I ran into his mother a few minutes ago, and she spoke to me as though she'd known me for years," I told Dib. "Oh, and to _add_ to the weirdness factor, she mentioned Mom."

Dib's expression changed gravely. "Mom?" he asked, his low voice trembling. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I assured him. "She said 'it's a shame about your mother,' or something like that. Freaked me out."

"Why would a woman who isn't supposed to exist mention our _mother?"_ Dib wondered out loud. "And, at that, seem to have knowledge of her disappearance?"

I shrugged. "Beats the shit outta me."

Dib made no comment. Taking in my brother's changing expression, my mind went numb, and I suddenly felt the need to say something, though I was unsure of what could possibly help. Dib read this from me, too, and reacted by sighing and turning away, back to his notes. This, I realize, is an action that could use some reiteration to explain its reason:

Though he normally acts like it's no big deal, Dib, just like I do, secretly longs for a more normal, if even mediocre, life. We've gotten used to Dad's strangeness, with how infrequently he decides to be home, with the parts of his lab that we are never, ever allowed into, but both of us can still vaguely remember when Dad was more open. When he acted like a father, and made time for us, and showed his face. The media had stolen him from us. Mom had disappeared suddenly, and Dad had been slowly disappearing ever since. A long time ago, he'd taken and hidden—or possibly destroyed—all evidence of Mom ever having been in our house. All the photos were gone, most of her possessions were gone, everything that could have reminded us of her was just... gone. Dib and I had only managed to hold on to one item of hers each: we'd each hidden a book. Mine was a poetry book from the mid-1900s, and Dib's was an even older book of world folklore, which was stashed away on one of his shelves.

Dib doesn't admit it, but he and Mom were, as I have said, very close. I remember how happy she made him. I can't remember specifics, such as what we as a family ever talked about, or did... I vaguely remember a couple of trips, and have hazy memories of our parents' friends, who would stop in for dinner or babysit us. My parents used to be an average, young, loving couple. Then there was some disaster (I only know it wasn't a fight), and Mom left. When it became clear that she wasn't coming back, Dib was heartbroken, and immediately started resenting her, and forgetting her. Dad had sold her piano before she'd been gone a month, and after that, I don't think I heard music coming from my brother's room once. Mentioning Mom takes a lot out of him, and I'm pretty sure he knows as well as I do that we both resemble her in some way, and that has something to do with why Dad goes out of his way to avoid us at times.

At least we had each other. That week especially, I realized that. We both pretended not to care, each in our own way, but the reality was there: we were siblings, and we were damn lucky that we had one another around. We knew when and why to stay out of each other's way, but luckily, now was a time that maybe we could stop being distant, and start closing the gap between us. Living out a few days as teenagers was kind of a wake-up call to both of us on the family issue. We both wanted to know the truth behind everything. For now, though, that could wait. For now, we just had to focus on getting back to the reality we had.

"So is that all you dug up?" I asked finally.

"Pretty much. It's what I got from Tak's ship, anyway."

"Oh." A thought suddenly hit me. "Hey, Dib," I said, "I think someone's trying to help us."

Dib looked unconvinced. "How so?"

"That game. _Warped."_

"Ugh, I hate that thing!" he groaned. "I don't get video games at all, and I really don't get why you'd keep playing it after what happened yesterday."

"Just come downstairs with me."

Dib rolled his eyes and stood.

I walked faster than usual down the stairs and into the living room. It suddenly occured to me that Dib really was acting differently. Normally, he'd have jumped up and investigated the problem, reporting it to his fellow Swolen Eyeball agents. Now, he just seemed like the mature older brother fed up with his little sister's obsession with video games. He was acting really mature lately... almost too much. Irkens or the time warp, I was not going to lose him. So I'd have to keep him occupied with paranormal findings as much as I could. Hooray.

Shoving the thought quickly out of my mind, I started up the game console and started over on _Warped._

"Just listen," I instructed my brother. The intro started to play. I listened to it more intently this time… as did my brother, oddly enough. "See?" I said once the intro stopped.

"Well, yeah, but you could've _told_ me it was her."

"Huh?" I wondered. "Her?"

"You know," said Dib. "That Miyuki. The one on your computer. It's her."

"Huh?"

"Didn't you notice?" asked Dib. "The voice-over. Play it again."

I did.

"How did I miss _that?"_ I wondered aloud. "That _is_ her voice! Now I'm confused."

"Me, too," Dib admitted. "But, you first."

"First, Zim says she's dead. Then, she's in my computer. Now, she's trying to help me through this game."

"I wouldn't say she's trying to help you, though," said Dib. "Even though it sort of does tie in to everything..."

"Hmmm…" I thought about it for a second. "You... don't suppose it's just Tak, do you? Pitching her voice and trying to trick us?"

"Could be, but Miyuki has no accent," Dib pointed out. "And Tak's got a pretty distinguishable accent."

"This _sucks!"_ I complained, my hands flying to my head. "Nothing makes sense! Everything Tak says is a _lie,_ Zim can't help us since he's like a completely different _person,_ and this _Miyuki_ thing just makes it all _worse!"_

At that moment, our door was flung open, announcing Zim's arrival.

_"I DO NOT WANT TO LIVE!"_ he screamed, full of rage.

"You gots teen angst!" GIR squealed, popping up from behind Zim and perching on his shoulder. Zim stormed into the house and slammed the door behind him.

"Um… it… isn't eight o'clock yet," I told him.

Zim folded his arms. "Who cares?" he said angrily, not looking at me.

"Jeez, Zim," I groaned, "what's gotten into _you?"_

"Nothing!" he snapped. "I'm _fine!"_

"ANGST!" screamed GIR. "ANGST! Angst like a piggy! LIKE A PIGGY!"

"Shut up!" Zim barked, grabbing GIR and holding the robot out in front of him. "I do _not_ have 'teen angst!'"

"Is what your _mom_ said!" GIR protested.

"Well, my mom's a _liar," _Zim hissed.

"Wow," my brother remarked. "When'd you start acting like yourself again?"

"What are you _talking_ about?" demanded Zim.

"He's right y'know," I said, realizing that what observed was, again, true. Even though I loved the moments I had alone with Zim, when he'd get kind, and intimate, I couldn't say I didn't like his swings back into his old crazed personality. They were promising to our time warp problem, anyway, even if they meant possibly losing our private talks all together. "You're acting the way you used to when you were––"

"I'm just really, really… _REALLY…_ pissed off!" Zim shouted, dropping GIR.

"Exactly," Dib coughed.

"And why are you so pissed off?" I had to ask.

"My… _dad!"_ Zim cried, clenching his fists so tightly his arms trembled.

"Your _dad?"_ Dib repeated.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"My father," Zim began, gripping the back of the recliner, trying to suppress his rage, "is a strict, pompous asshole who isn't in favor of modern technology; he's the worst human on the face of the Earth, and… _I… HATE HIM!"_

Zim spun around and punched a fist into the wall. Bits of the plaster flew off when he did so. "I hate _him…"_ He punched with his other fist, and continued alternating as he spoke. "I hate my _mother…_ I hate my _house…_ I hate my _responsibilities…_ I hate the _high school…_ I hate being a _teenager…_ and I _hate… being… HUMAN!_ I hate it, I hate it, _I HATE IT!"_

He stepped away from the wall and leaned over the back of the recliner, burying his head in his hands. "It wouldn't be so bad if Tak hadn't… _rrrgh!_ Why'd she have to give me _parents?"_

"No… angst more like a iguana," GIR decided.

"Shut up, GIR," Zim muttered.

"So is that what you wanted to talk to us about?" I asked Zim. "Your parents?"

"No… that's why I'm here early, though," he explained, his head still buried in his hands against the recliner.

"So, what, exactly _did_ you want to talk to us about?" asked Dib, walking over and taking a seat on the sofa. I came to the conclusion that the two had not spoken alone yet. What was Dib even waiting for? Some huge screw-up on Zim's part so he could tell him right out to leave me alone? Oh, shit. Probably.

Zim lifted his head. "I'm forgetting things," he said straightforwardly. "You witnessed it just this afternoon," Zim told me. "In the library. Up until you said the word 'Irken,' I…" Zim gulped and cast his gaze downward. "I had no clue as to what one was."

"How is that even _possible?"_ Dib stuttered. "You _are_ Irken!"

"Was," Zim corrected. "And that's the problem. I've been getting into this state of mind lately where I just… accept that I'm human. That I think I've always _been_ human." Zim shivered when he said that. "These… personality jumps are getting more and more frequent. I usually snap back when something pisses me off."

"Like your parents?" I offered.

Zim's left eye twitched. "Like my parents," he snarled, agreeing with me. He shook his head and stepped around to the other side of the recliner. "Now, maybe you don't believe me," he said, "or maybe you don't care. Either way, I… I need your help." He sighed, then looked at us almost pleadingly. "I promise," he began, forcing that word out, "I'll do whatever I can to repay you, if only you help me with this."

He was making an involuntary personality switch again, and I sensed that, deep down, he knew it. However, this was Zim at his most desperate, so I knew that all sides of his personality were serious, and that he meant everything he was saying.

"Look," Zim continued, "I… I've been a human for almost a week now. Every day, I become more comfortable with this human body, and I've come to accept it as my own. I can't even remember how to use that… um… that… ugh, I don't even know the _name_ of it anymore? Um… I think it was a pretty easy word, too… how could I––"

"Your PAK?" I offered.

"That's it, right." Zim held his head. "See? Pathetic. So that's why I'm asking you to, _please…_ restore me to the way I was." He fixed his gaze on me. "I'm really sorry, Gaz, I––"

"No, I understand," I said, shrugging. "I'll help you. I already said I would."

"GAZ!" Dib snapped.

"What? I know how he feels. We're not supposed to be like _this,_ either… or have _you_ forgotten?"

Dib groaned. "Okay, sure," he gave in. "Whatever. I guess we're back where we started."

"You gots the angsties, _too!"_ GIR proclaimed, pointing a finger right in Dib's face.

"Get lost, you stupid little robot," Dib ordered.

"Ooooookaaaaaaay!" GIR agreed. He then bolted off in one direction, and started tearing about the house. "I'm gettin' lost!"

Dib looked uneasy. "Wait," he called out. "Get back here." GIR was instantly at his feet. "Roll over." GIR did. "Go do the dishes." GIR zoomed off into the kitchen, and I heard the splashing of water and clattering of dishes.

"GIR!" Zim shouted at the top of his lungs, forcing the little robot back into the living room. "What the hell?"

"Yeah, seriously!" Dib chimed in.

"Why're you taking orders from him?" Zim demanded.

"My question exactly!" my brother added.

"It's cuz you tall, like a Tallest!" GIR announced, putting up a hand to measure height. "An' it was fun!"

"So it _was_ just to annoy me?"

"YOUR HEAD NOT SO BIG NO MORE!" GIR cried as though it were the greatest discovery ever.

"Do you _ever_ shut up about my _head?"_ Dib shouted, standing quickly and looming over GIR.

"Now you gots head angst!" screamed GIR.

"GOD DAMN YOU!"

"This'll take a while," I observed, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah," Zim agreed. "Hey, can we step outside for a sec? Just you and me?"

"Uh… sure."

So, out we went. "Won't talking to me like this make you _more_ human?" I wondered.

"I don't know," said Zim. "Actually, I was just wondering if you'd ask me a few things; to see how much I remember. Sure, you probably don't know much of that stuff, but it'd be helpful if you'd try."

"I'll do what I can, I guess," I shrugged.

Zim smiled. "Thanks, Gaz," he said.

"Mm," I returned. I tried to think of things I'd overheard about Zim's race, from him, Tak, and my obsessive brother. "Got one," I said, rather proud of myself. "Okay, uh, what was the name of your ship?"

"The model? A Voot Runner," Zim answered. "Hah! Good. Still remember that."

"'Kay… uh… MiMi. What is she?"

"A ca––ah… SIR unit," said Zim.

"What's that stand for?" I asked. I didn't know the answer, but I hoped that _he_ did.

"SIR stands for…" Zim started, "um… Service… no… Standard..? Oh… shit… I don't know. Dammit. Try another one."

"What sets your leaders apart from everyone else?" I asked quickly.

"Authority?" Zim guessed.

I shook my head.

"Lineage? No? Uh… presence? Wait… something about appearance… um… height!"

"That about does it for what I know," I confessed.

"More than me," Zim muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

I shrugged it off, telling myself to corner him into a more _us-_focused conversation later, and said, "Hey… wanna go see if any sanity has been restored inside?"

"Sure, why not?"

I opened the door to the house, and the first thing I heard was:

"GET OFFA MY LEG!"

"NYAA-HEEE-HEE-HEEE!"

Dib and GIR, it seemed, were engaged in quite the struggle: Dib on the floor with his back pressed against the coffee table (which, at some point in this bizarre tussle, had been flipped on its side), while trying to pry GIR off of his right leg to no avail. GIR, meanwhile, seemed to have developed a penchant for my brother's leg, as he was gnawing on it happily now.

Natural impulse: laugh. You can rest assured that I did. Laughter had never felt so good.

"GIR!" Zim barked, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. "What do you think you're doing?"

GIR stopped biting Dib's leg and hugged it tightly. "YOUR FRIEND TASTE LIKE A JELLYBEAN!" he cried as happily and obnoxiously loud as he possibly could. "AND PEANUT! AND AAA-VOOO-CAAA-DOOO!"

"Avocado" was said in a strange, throaty voice, and, upon saying it, GIR started to chew on Dib's leg once more.

"HEY!" Dib screamed. "QUIT IT! W-WHAT–– _THAT'S MY LEG!"_

"GIR!" Zim shouted again.

GIR made a monkey-like screech.

"GIR!" Zim tried yet again.

"NYAH!" GIR screeched.

"GIR!"

"NYAH!"

_"GIR!"_

"I gonna tackle you!" GIR cried suddenly, lunging at Zim and latching onto his face.

"GET OFF!" roared Zim, tugging at GIR.

Meanwhile, Dib pulled off his trench coat and examined his leg.

"FRANKS AND BEANS!" screamed GIR.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Zim hollered, stumbling into the center of the room. He finally pried GIR off of his face and glared at the robot angrily. GIR laughed and jumped up on top of Zim's head. "Get _down,_ GIR!" Zim ordered.

GIR just kept on laughing. Without warning, he grabbed two fistfuls of Zim's hair and yanked.

Zim let out an earsplitting cry of pain and fell to his knees. "YAAAH! GIR!" he screamed. "GET OFF! You have NO IDEA how much that _HURTS!"_

"I gotta get a camera!" I laughed, starting to walk toward the stairs.

"GOTCHA!" I heard Dib yell.

I turned around. Dib had caught GIR with his trench coat and was pinning him to the ground with a weird, evil grin on his face.

Zim moaned and lay back on the floor, rubbing his head in pain. GIR started squirming inside Dib's trench coat, and eventually burst out of it, squealing with glee.

"YOU HORRIBLE ROBOT!" Dib yelled, aghast. "You ripped the damn thing! Trench coats aren't cheap!"

"STOP YELLING!" shouted Zim. "Gah… my head!"

"You're one to _talk!"_ spat Dib.

"Yeah, I am! Now shut up!"

Unexpectedly, GIR rammed into my back–– _really_ hard. The shock made me lose my footing so that I tripped and fell… _right on top of Zim._

"OW!" we both spat involuntarily.

"Heh…" I said, my cheeks flushing red. "This is… kinda… awkward…"

"GAZ!" Dib hollered. "What do you think you're––"

"It's not _my_ fault!"

"Would you stop _shouting?"_ Zim ordered.

I propped myself up onto my hands and knees.

"It's still awkward, Gaz," groaned Zim, wincing and rubbing his head in pain. Even so, we both smirked a little.

"LEGMEAT!" GIR whined, latching onto Dib's leg once more.

"Hey!" cried Dib.

"You needs leg-lovin'!"

"No! I don't! Get off!"

The door opened at that very moment, and Dad walked in. "Kids, I can't seem to find my––" he began.

All activity ceased. We were all too shocked to move. I could see Dad's fury rising.

He frowned. "I don't think I want to know…" he muttered, then walked out again.

We all heaved sighs of relief. Dib went back to trying to pry GIR off of his leg again. Zim and I looked at each other and we both went red.

"I guess I'll––"

"ZIM!"

Okay, Dad's appearance was unexpected but understandable. Just plain _freaky,_ however…

We all turned, or looked up, respectively, to look in the general direction of the speaker.

"What the––" Zim stammered. _"Mom?_ What're you––"

Zim's mother merely glared at him and me crossly, her arms folded and her teeth grinding together. Zim quickly pushed me off and GIR ran to hide behind me. Zim stood nervously, stumbling a little. "I can explain!" he tried, looking awfully scared.

"Good," said his mother. "Save it for when we get home!"

Zim gulped. I couldn't believe it… he was actually _scared_ of her. Not in the way that one would be downright frightened of something or someone, but in the way that _all_ kids and teenagers are unjustifyably afraid of their parents and their authority.

"I can _not_ believe you, Zim!" his mother went on. "You sneak out of the house upon your father's arrival… and _this_ is what I find you doing?"

"It's _not _what you_ think!"_ Zim tried.

"How can I _trust_ you?" his mother snapped. "Honestly, Zim! What do you take me for?"

Zim shrank back, trying to avoid too much confrontation.

"And as for _you,_ you little seductress," Zim's mother barked at me, "you ought to be ashamed!"

"Look, Mrs. … uh…" Crap, not again. "It's nothing!" I covered. "I just tripped!"

"Excuses will get you nowhere in a hurry, Gaz," Zim's mother scolded.

"But––"

"I don't buy it!"

I scowled.

"Mom, listen, I––" Zim began.

"I've heard and seen enough," said his mother. "Just wait until your father hears about _this!_ Oh, he's not going to be pleased…"

"I didn't do anything _wrong!"_ Zim protested.

"You're out of line, Zim, I'm sick of your excuses!" said his mother, dismissing that statement. "You are coming home _this instant!"_

Without warning, she grabbed him by the hair and glared at him.

"OW!" Zim cried.

"Do I make myself _clear_ enough for you?" his mother hissed.

"Yes! Ow! Seriously, Mom, let _go!_ That–– _ow!"_

She let go, and Zim started rubbing his head again. I noticed that the corners of his eyes were starting to form tears, mostly of pain and anger. Still, I could also see his hate gathering and building. However, this wasn't the spite that was second nature to Irkens. Oh, no. This was, as GIR had so rightly put it, pure teen angst.

"Good," said Zim's mother. "Now, you get out of this house and into that car, young man! We have a _lot_ to discuss, and now you go and add _this_ on top of it! I hope that you realize––"

"For God's sake, Mother, _leave me alone!"_ Zim hollered, unable to take it anymore. It was then that I truly realized what he meant when he said he'd been experiencing personality jumps. At that moment, it seemed, Invader Zim was gone. "I'm _sixteen years old,_ Mom; I can make my own decisions! I know what's right for me and what isn't! You and Dad just can't accept that! And you know what? Just because _you_ got knocked up as a teenager doesn't mean that Gaz is going to make the same mistakes, so stop being such a _tight-ass!"_

Zim slapped a hand over his mouth. His mother obviously thought that it was because he'd called her a "tight-ass," but I knew that the real reason was another shift in personality. He was back to normal, and he couldn't believe what he'd just said… in such an average human way, at that.

"Get in the car, Zim," his mother demanded coldly. _"Now."_

Zim hung his head, then looked about ready to say something; he obviously changed his mind, then stormed out. His mother followed without saying another word. She slammed the door behind her.

GIR immediately started crying.

"Huh… wow," Dib remarked.

"What?" I wanted to know.

"I get it now," said my brother.

"Get _what?"_ I tried again.

"Why Tak gave him parents," Dib told me. "She did it so they'd keep him in line… so they'd treat him as any parent would treat their son. It's _their_ fault he's having these personality jumps. Without parents, he'd still live by his own rules… he'd still act Irken. But since he _does_ have parents, he's _below_ someone… he's just like any other human teenager. Hey, I bet that's why she made him a teenager, anyway. Teen angst versus Irken nature… he can't tell the difference."

"Huh…" I said. I did not mention that I knew the real reason for Zim's outward human age. "You're right. …Again."

GIR started bawling.

"What's _your_ problem?" I snapped at him.

"I dunno!" wailed GIR.

"Come on! It's annoying. Quit it," I ordered.

"But––" sniffed GIR, "but––"

"But _what?"_

"I dunno!" GIR wailed again. "My master's actin' all different!" he whimpered. "No more doom or nothin'! He keeps forgett'n an' actin' all not-Irken-like, and I ain't had a burrito in a really long time, and… and… _I MISS ZIM!"_

GIR started pounding the floor with his fists while he cried.

Dib and I exchanged glances. With GIR acting so strange all the time, I had no idea whether he was actually sad or not.

Then, a thought hit me. Either he was sad or he wasn't. Two choices, black and white. There was no grey area. No other option, no other outcome. And that's the way it was with everything.

"Where are you going?" Dib asked. I'd hardly even realized that I'd started walking toward the stairs. It was as if my body was moving my mind without my mind telling it to, because I was preoccupied with my new philosophical Venn-Diagram-like thoughts.

"To my room," I answered blankly. "To think."

The next thing I knew, I was in my room. Seconds later, I was lying on my bed with my shoes off. I felt like I was in one of those time-lapse videos: seconds during which nothing important happened removed, making my movements look stiff and mechanical, showing only the scenes in which I did something mildly productive.

Once I was lying down, I could think more clearly about what I was doing–– I was in control again. The more I thought about it, the more the past week seemed to be little more than a succession of jumbled 'either-or' statements.

Either GIR was sad or he wasn't. Either we were trapped here or we weren't. Either Zim was beyond hope of turning Irken again or he wasn't. Either Miyuki was dead or she wasn't. Either Tak knew what she was doing or she didn't. And, most importantly…

…Either Tak was evil or she wasn't. If Tak's 'plan' really was based on emotion, as we'd been assuming, then it was obvious that the predominant emotion behind it all was not love, but simple, utter confusion. If she wasn't evil, then she was definitely confused. We all were.

It was the lies.

It had to be. Tak did nothing but lie, and lies are the product of confusion and can also instill _more_ confusion. What's left at the end of it all is the buried truth. Either that or chaos.

_Great,_ I thought. _Add another 'either-or' to the list._

For the longest time, then, I lay on my bed doing absolutely nothing but what comes involuntarily. I didn't even think. It sounds absurd, but I somehow pulled it off.

When my subconscious finally sprung to life again, my first thought was to find anything that could fill the grey area of the aforementioned situations. That didn't work. After that failed attempt, only really stupid thoughts came to mind. Thoughts such as: "What if this is all just a dream?" or, "What if there _was_ no time-warp and five years really _have_ gone by?"

_Stupid, Gaz,_ I told myself. _Really stupid._

To clear my head of most of my stupid thoughts, I reflected again on Zim's philosophy of nothing never happening. I wondered how sincerely he believed in that, and decided that he must, to have talked about it so fervently. There was then the issue of his personality, and the jumps between moods he'd been making. I'd seen him crazier than Dad, borderline homicidal, sweet and loving, and about as normal as one could possibly get. Zim had never seemed so multifaceted. There were so many different parts of him that I found myself yearning to understand. Deep down, I was getting more and more selfish. He'd expressed both wants: staying human, or returning to normal as an Irken. I wrapped my mind around the first idea. I wanted him to stay.

My heart started beating faster and faster. I didn't want our little conversations to end. I did not know how things would change once life got back to basically normal. I couldn't think of him as an Irken. I just wanted him to stay. I wanted something to cling to. I wanted something besides Mom's dusty old book of poetry to love and call mine.

_Lighten up, Gaz;_ I scolded myself,_ you're acting like a little kid._

My eyes snapped open as wide as my sockets would allow. "That's _IT!"_ I cried, sitting up. I switched gears completely, and shifted to sit with my legs over the edge of my bed. In my excitement, I started thinking out loud to myself, sometimes incoherently. (If there's one thing that Dib and I have in common, it's that we have a tendency to talk to ourselves… though I do so less frequently.)

"That's it," I repeated aloud to myself, most likely grinning like an idiot. "That's how we get back!"

I sat there talking to myself for God _knows_ how long, chattering on to myself the way most girls do among friends. Night fell just as I put all of my thoughts in order, so I tossed off my clothes and jewelry, threw on my pajamas, and bolted out of my room exclaiming, "I did it, I did it, I did it, I _did it!"_

I rushed down the stairs and found Dib on the couch, where I knew he would be (only he was, for some reason, watching the news instead of _Mysterious Mysteries)._ He stood when he saw me, and I almost tackled him with a running hug.

"I did it!" I cried happily, laughing in spite of myself. "I did it, I did it, I did it!"

"Did _what?"_ Dib wanted to know, prying himself away from me. "And why are you so… _happy?"_ he added, giving me an odd look.

"I figured it out!

"Figured _what _out?"

"How to get back!"

"WHAT?"

"I figured out how to get back!" I repeated stupidly.

"No, no, I heard you," Dib stuttered, his eyes wide in amazement, "but I just… I… are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Well? What is it?" asked Dib, overly excited. "How do we get back?"

"Okay, it might sound a little weird," I admitted, "so bear with me."

Dib laughed. "Gaz, this is me you're talking to," he said. "Nothing's gonna sound too weird."

"Heh… yeah, true," I agreed. It was good to see him more like himself, even if he was handling things much more rationally than usual. I took a deep breath. "All right," I said, "here's what I think: We're teenagers, right?"

"Right."

"WRONG!"

"Huh?"

"Ha!"

_"WHAT?"_

"Dib, we're _not_ teenagers!" I said again. "We keep trying to fit in and all, but we _shouldn't!_ It's _us_ that's keeping us here, not Tak! If this whole thing _is_ emotional, then it all comes from the subconscious! If we just _act_ the way we _normally _do, getting out of this fix will be so much easier!"

Dib blinked. "So…" he said after a brief pause, "what… _are_ you saying?"

"Dib, you're eleven years old and a paranormal freak! I haven't _once_ seen you doing any of your… whatever it is you do… this past week! Concentrate on who you _are_ and not who you _will_ be or who everyone else _thinks_ you are. I mean, look at you! Why aren't you watching _Mysterious Mysteries_ right now?"

"Wow… you're… right," said my brother. "You're absoloutely right."

"Of course I am," I smirked.

"But we can't get back on our own," he continued. "We just have to prove to Tak that we're capable of it."

"Oh, yeah, true."

"Cuz it can't be_ all_ subconscious, can it?"

"Yeah, I guess not."

So, as far as being right goes, the score for that night was me: one, Dib: five million. Gah. Brothers.

The rest of the night wasn't very productive. At all. I wish I could say we got right down to working everything out, but with us, it's just not like that. I did fill out that form for the bookstore, though, despite it almost being counter-productive. That was about it.

– – –

The next morning, I woke up feeling that it was to be a pretty good day. I've never felt _that_ before, so it kinda freaked me out. Nonetheless, it was another welcome feeling. Even the shower, my old enemy, decided to be nice to me for once.

As Dib and I tediously sat down at breakfast, he suggested that we walk to school.

"Are you insane?" I reprimanded. Trick question. "We'll never get there unless we leave now. Why can't you just _drive_ us? It's, like, eighty blocks away!"

"Did you just say 'like?'"

"Shut up. Anyway, why should we walk?"

"For two reasons," Dib explained. "First, you yourself said that we need to lay off the teenager stuff. I'd assume that pertains to an 11-year-old driving."

"Crap," I realized. "So, what's reason number two?"

"Walking will, hopefully, counter the… uh… what I had to do this morning," he said nervously.

"That being?"

"Never mind. Let's just go."

"No. Tell me."

"I'm leaving."

Dib stood, grabbed his bag and walked to the door. I stuffed my half-burnt toast into my mouth and grudgingly followed suit. I stayed a safe distance behind my brother, chewed the toast, molded it in my mouth, took aim, and spat the wad at the back of my brother's head.

"GAH!" he shouted, cringing and stopping abruptly. The toastball worked its way down the back of Dib's trench coat. He quickly tossed his backpack to the side and yanked the trench coat off, feeling the back of his head with a disgusted look on his face.

I burst out laughing, giving myself ten points for perfect aim.

"Gaz!" Dib spat angrily, shaking out his trench coat to rid it of the toast. "Come on, that's not funny! It's sick!"

The toast wad plopped out and I laughed even harder. Dib growled, wiped the back of his head again, slung his bag over one shoulder and continued walking, now carrying the trench coat.

When I caught up, he remarked, "You have a really sick and twisted sense of humor."

I snorted, doing my best to cease my laughter.

Dib rolled his eyes. "Well, I see you're up to your old tricks again," he sighed.

"Oh, come _on,"_ I said, slapping my brother on the shoulder. "It _was_ pretty funny."

"In context, I guess…" he admitted, grinning. "So, let's see… so far this week, I've been pelted with watermelon seeds…" ––I snickered–– "toast… a muffin, and an old sock."

"A muffin and an old sock?" I wondered.

"Oh, yeah, you weren't there for those," said Dib. "But, if you must know, GIR pelted me with a muffin when he showed up during English on Tuesday, trying to haul Zim out of class… and the sock…" Dib shuddered. "I'd rather not talk about the sock."

"You know how much I can hurt you," I reminded him darkly.

"Okay, right, the sock," Dib gave in. "Just… um… basically… never walk past the locker rooms after the weight training class gets out."

"Gross!" I laughed, my eyes widening.

"Now that _that's_ settled, let's––"

"Nice try, Dib," I cut in, smirking. "But you still haven't told me what happened to you this morning."

"I'd really prefer not to, Gaz," he said. "It's embarrassing."

"Oh, come _on,"_ I scoffed. "It really can't be that bad. Um… can it?"

Dib sighed, stopped (we were at an intersection anyway), and turned to look at me. "Look at my face," he instructed. "There. Self-explanatory."

"What?" I asked, noticing the adhesive medical strip covering the skin near his right jaw bone. "That?"

"Yeah."

We crossed while the traffic was stopped.

"So? What?" I wondered. "So you cut yourself. Big deal."

"It's _how_ I cut myself," Dib explained, "that I'm uneasy about."

"How is it self-explanatory, then?" I pried. "I honestly don't get it."

Dib went incredibly red. "Jeez! I cut myself shaving, okay?" he said quickly, firmly, and uneasily. "There. Enough said. Happy?"

"Oh," I responded meekly, backing off a bit. "I didn't realize… sorry."

"Whatever. It's fine. Let's just drop it, okay?"

"Right."

The real kid in me wanted to keep him going… either taunt him or scold him, but I held back. But I suppose it couldn't be helped. Dib just did what he had to do. Still… it was kinda weird for me to think about. But, being the kind and wonderful sister that I am (six point lie…), I did as he asked and dropped the subject, without further questions.

As we walked on, I did venture to ask one nagging question: "Hey, Dib?"

"Huh?"

"Did you ever, y'know, talk to Zim?"

Dib walked on in silence for a few paces, then admitted, "No."

"Why not?"

"Should we really have this conversation?" Dib wondered. "I mean, based on our new 'don't get sucked in' approach..?"

"Don't avoid this," I hissed. "I deserve to know at least why you didn't talk to him."

My brother sighed, and squinted in the sun. "All right, fine," he gave in. "I was going to. Yesterday. I was more than ready to. I planned to catch him at lunch, but Tak cornered him first. I hid off to the side and tried to pick up bits of their conversation. Tak basically sounded pissed off; Zim sounded apologetic. All I could pick up on was Zim saying something to the effect of, 'Well, you'd better not go after her again. If you have a problem, take it out on me.' I assume 'her' meant you. I couldn't figure out what to do after that, so I left it alone."

"But Dib—"

"I'm trying to come to my own conclusions about it first," he said quickly. "I'm obviously not okay with how, uh... fond of you he is, but I can't say I don't owe him for helping out." I did not press the issue further, and Dib fell silent.

After a few minutes, I started to pick up on moving energy (thank you, weird sixth sense). I blinked and turned my head, sensing somebody behind me. I gasped a little and turned completely around, looking down.

MiMi.

I stared at her, and she narrowed her glowing red eyes and glared back, then darted off. I stood frozen for a minute, but Dib snapped me back.

"Hey!" he called. "Gaz, what're you doing? Come on, we'll be late."

"R-Right…" I said, turning to go. I ran to catch up with my brother, looking over my shoulder briefly. There she was again! That… _MiMi!_ I shook my head, telling myself I'd worry about it later, and slowed my pace, once again walking right next to my brother.

"What was that all about?" he wanted to know. "You just… stopped."

"I thought I saw something," I lied, grinning. "Sorry."

Dib shrugged. "I think I see things all the time," he said, mostly to himself. "Someday, people will believe me…"

"Sure they will," I replied, which was my usual automatic response.

_Wait,_ I started thinking. _Sure they will! If the Invasion continues, they'll have to!_

Ugh… somebody shoot me. Every Goddamn day, I wake up wondering how much longer this whole thing, the Invasion, I mean, will go on. Aaaargh!

You know, this isn't helping. I can't get all depressed while I write. My damn brother says I have to write all this down. It's _cruical,_ he says. Oh, well. I suppose I'm "getting to the good part," as it were.

– – –

Well, Mr. Saunders, art teacher from hell, was in rare form during first period. Apparently, "Romanticism is FUN!" I wanted to stab him with one of those chisels or whatever he had in the back of the room. There's only so much I can take.

When he asked us to express ourselves in some free-draw thing, I drew, for the second time in high school, a pig hanging himself. Saunders went off on some tangent about how it symbolized the dream to end conspicuous consumption, or something like that. I said I had to go to the bathroom and stayed there for the remaining twenty minutes of class. The best thing was, nobody noticed. People can be good like that sometimes.

We had a substitute in Physics. All we did was watch a movie… I don't remember what it was about. I was too busy picking at a hangnail until I bled. I made the girl next to me faint when I started making splotchy paintings with the blood in my notebook.

An ambulance was called and everything. It was awesome. Plus, by the time it came, the blood had dried, so I was innocent. I was on a roll.

We had a substitute in Spanish that day, too: a man who knew less of the language than any of us in the class did. Most of my classmates spent their time flicking rubber bands at each other. I, on the other hand, found a Latin dictionary tucked away in the bookshelf at the back of the room (why it was there, I won't even question), and looked up what _"Non sum qualis eram," _the phrase spoken at the intro to _Warped,_ meant.

Turns out, it translates as: _"I am not who I used to be."_

"No kidding," I muttered. "Hmmm… Tak _must_ be behind that game… either her or Miyuki."

_Aaargh! _I thought. _No! Not another stupid 'either-or' thing!_

After my success in that, I was hit in the ear with a rubber band. I slapped a hand over that ear, growled, and turned in the direction from which it had come, glaring at the five kids sitting right there. "Which one of you immature bastards threw that?" I demanded.

Four of the suspects quickly moved away, leaving alone someone who I vaguely recognized, from Mr. Elliot's class, as Hanzhi. I narrowed my eyes. She was one of the few from my class, as far as I could remember, who actually _hated_ instead of feared me.

"You," I snarled. "Bitch. You're going to die."

Unfortunately, just as I was standing, the bell rang. Hanzhi hurried out of the room at an inhuman pace. I'd find her. I knew it. I'd find her and kill her.

Anyway.

During lunch period, I got a little nervous, because Dib didn't show up. I did not eat lunch that day for three reasons: I was too nervous, I was not hungry, and I had forgotten to bring money.

During Advanced Algebra, somebody projectile vomited onto the teacher's computer, so that was another wasted 75-minute period. I only accomplished stealing a compass, figuring it might come in handy (the pointed end, I mean).

American History was a 75-minute lecture about human rights and humanity in general. _Thank God Zim isn't in this class,_ I thought to myself, rolling my eyes.

I noticed, for the first time, that the bitch Hanzhi was in that class. When she left class briefly to get a bottle of water, I shoved the compass into her bag with the sharp tip poking out where it would definitely scratch up her back. Sure enough, as we all left class, I heard her emit a cry of pain. I'd forgotten how great I was at getting revenge. I only hoped I could do something even worse to Tak.

Thus ended the fastest-moving school day of my life. Before I knew it, I was outside on the front steps, waiting for my brother. When he did come out, he was laughing. (I noticed, also, that he was not wearing his trench coat. Toast and saliva reign supreme.)

"What's up with _you?"_ I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not the only one with girl troubles anymore," Dib said, grinning with delight.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"Just wait for it…"

A couple moments later, Zim burst out of one of the front doors, slammed it shut, pressed his back against it, and put all of his strength into keeping it shut. "Dib, you _moron!"_ he spat, glaring at him. "Dirty, stupid liar! You brought this upon me, so by God, you'd better get over here and help me out!"

The other door started to open. Zim yelped and turned around, now keeping both doors closed; one with his left hand, one with his right. "Help me, you son of a bitch!" he barked.

"No can do, Zim!" Dib laughed. "I'm not as strong as you!"

"Bullshit!" Zim shouted. The doors started to give, so he pushed against them even harder. "Ow! God! My right arm is going to fall off!"

Dib just laughed harder.

"Goddammit, Dib, I'm serious!" yelled Zim. "I can't keep this up! Damn you! Why are you such an _asshole?"_

"Dib, what did you _do?"_ I wanted to know.

Dib grinned and shrugged. "I told the girls in class that he was single."

After a beat, I said, "You jerk."

"So help me, God, Dib, I am going to beat you senseless if you don't come help me _RIGHT NOW!"_

"If you survive," Dib taunted.

"Bastard!" Zim spat. "Oh, man… my _arm..!"_

"If it's as bad as it seems to be," I said to Dib, "I'm going to beat you senseless, too."

"It'll be worth it!" he grinned. "I feel like I haven't laughed at Zim's expense in a _long_ time!"

"Damn freak," I muttered.

_"Damn_ it!" Zim cringed, glancing at the bandage on his right arm. "I… can't… _do_ this..! I'LL _KILL_ YOU, DIB!"

He reluctantly stepped away from the doors, which immediately burst open. Dib wasn't kidding. Every girl in the junior class (save Tak, Zita and Gretchen), and others of varying ages, were packed in behind the doors. I'm serious.

Zim wiped some sweat from his forehead, tossed his bag aside, and backed further away, a look of horror on his face. "Keep your distance, you stupid girls!" he shouted. _"DIB LIED!"_

"So what if he _did?"_ one of the girls called out. _"I'm_ just here to enjoy the view!"

Zim went red, looking infuriated. "He was _lying!_ Back off!"

"I say _you're_ the one who's lying!" another girl said.

"Aww, how modest!"

"Makes him even _cuter!"_

"Come on, Zim, just _one_ date! I'll do anything!"

"How about you shut up and leave me alone?" he bellowed.

"Oh, my God, I _love_ the sound of his _voice!"_

"No kidding!"

I had to intervene. "Hey," I shot, stepping between Zim and the harem of psychotic girls. "He _said,_ 'back _off!'"_

"Gaz?" one of the girls yelped. "Wh-what do you think you're doing?"

"Proving Zim's point," I replied. "Go away."

"Wait… you mean… _you're..?"_

I cast a look over at Zim, who gulped, then strode up to me and put his hands on my shoulders. "Gaz is my girlfriend," he said firmly. "Now leave me alone."

"I don't believe you!"

"I need proof!"

"Immature little brats!" Zim muttered. He turned to face me. "I'm sorry if this embarrasses you," he said to me quietly.

He then leaned down a few inches, brushed a bit of hair behind my left ear, and kissed me softly. A dejected groan rose up from the crowd, and, by the time Zim pulled away, they had all dispersed.

Zim let out a sigh of relief, fixed my hair a little again, and kept his eyes on mine. My heart skipped, and I found myself wishing again that he could just stay human, no questions asked. Then, suddenly, his expression changed as he asked, "I just did that in front of your brother, didn't I?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, realizing the problem at the same time.

"Shit."

As if on cue, Dib strode up to us, seperating me and Zim. "What the hell was _that?"_ he demanded.

"I was just––" Zim tried.

"Don't play coy with _me,_ Zim! That's _twice_ now you've done that!"

"Done what?"

_"Kissed my sister!"_ Dib shouted, his anger rising. I almost corrected him, but realized that would not have helped the situation at all. "And this time, you did so _openly!"_

"You brought it upon yourself!" Zim shot back. "Don't you dare say you had nothing to do with it!"

"So maybe I said a few things, but I _never_ gave you permission to kiss my sister!"

"Dib, for God's sake, _listen_ to yourself! Don't you care about how _Gaz_ feels?

"Of course I do! She's my little sister! But you..! I can't trust you! You're not human!"

"Well, could you at least _pretend_ that I am?"

That shut Dib up. Surprisingly enough, it shut Zim himself up, too. The two glared at each other for a moment, then, suddenly, Zim burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" my brother demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Zim replied, still laughing. "It's just… our fights never go anywhere! They start off fine, but end up pointless! I don't know if it's the lack of sleep or the amount of caffeine I've been putting into me or what… but can't you see the humor in that?"

"Well," Dib gave in, "we have fought over some pretty trivial things before, but we're talking about my _sister,_ here."

"Oh, lighten up, Dib."

"All right, fine," he said. "I… guess I can let this one slide…"

"Besides," Zim reminded him, "I _did_ save your life."

I snickered.

"Oh, shut up," Dib groaned. "I just don't want you going _completely_ human on us. I want to get back to normal pretty soon."

"Speaking of being human," I said, "I think your dagger wound opened up, Zim. You're bleeding!"

"I'm what? Huh?" Zim lifted his right shirt sleeve and cringed. There were fresh blood stains on the bandage. "Oh, crap, now it's gonna start to sting again…"

He cupped his left hand over the laceration, and exhaled in a hiss through clenched teeth. "Just when it was starting to heal, too…" he groaned. "Why'd I go and exert so much force?"

Zim fell to his knees, quickly tossing aside his backpack, then started unraveling the bandage. "Man, Mom's gonna _kill_ me for ruining the stupid thing…" he muttered, "and Dad's just gonna yell at me anyway… damn! I need an excuse…"

Before he could lapse further, or experience a flash, I ripped off a strip from my skirt (which was kinda long anyway), then pulled a water bottle out of my backpack and soaked the cloth. "Bear with me, Dib," I said to my brother. Gathering the cloth strip into a little ball, I sat down next to Zim. "Move your hand," I instructed. He did so, and I gently put the cool, wet cloth up against the open wound. Zim winced. "Sorry," I said. "You okay?"

"Fine, fine," he said, inhaling and exhaling harshly. "That's a big help, really. Thank you."

Dib looked on in disbelief.

Zim ran his left hand through his hair (something which he seemed to be doing a lot during times of stress lately) and let out a sigh. "Thank God I didn't use my full strength," he said. "I might have made it even worse…"

"Stop stressing or you _will_ make it worse," I grumbled, washing the blood off of Zim's flawlessly pale skin as best I could. "There," I said, smiling. "I've cleaned it up. Want me to wrap the bandage around the scar again?"

"You could get the extra bandage out of my bag," Zim said, "but I think I'd rather apply it myself."

"Sure," I shrugged. "Here, hold this cloth in place."

Zim put his left hand gingerly over the wet cloth and the laceration underneath, and I turned around to grab his backpack.

"Ugh," I complained. "This is heavier than a normal school bag. What do you keep in here?"

I unzipped the bag, and, of all things, GIR popped out, flung his hands up in the air and squealed, "I am the prize inside!" I cried out in alarm and scrambled backwards. "I can see your _underwear!"_ GIR exclaimed happily. I yelped and shifted my position quickly.

"GIR!" Zim barked. "What are you doing in there?"

"I dunno…" the little robot mused.

"Well, get out. I need to rewrap my arm."

The top of GIR's head slid open; he reached in and pulled out a rolled-up adhesive bandage. Zim grimaced and took it from GIR. "I'm not going to ask why… not questioning a thing…" he said, wrapping the bandage around the deep cut on his upper right arm.

He fastened the clasp into place, sighed and stood, flinging his backpack over his left shoulder. "You… gonna be okay?" I asked.

"Fine, fine," Zim replied. He looked over his shoulder and glared at GIR. "Gotta start putting a leash on _him,_ though." GIR stuck his tongue out and gave the thumbs-up. Zim groaned. "Do you have your disguise with you?"

"NUH-UH!" GIR announced cheerfully, throwing his arms up in the air again.

Zim rolled his eyes. "Then get back in the bag," he ordered.

"I don't wanna!"

Angrily, Zim grabbed GIR and held the robot out in front of him. "Do as I _say,_ GIR!" he shot at him.

"You're not fun no more!" whimpered GIR, practically screaming.

"I'm _human,_ GIR!" Zim snapped. GIR sniffed and started crying. Zim's eyes got soft; he knealt down and set GIR in front of him. "Do you understand, GIR?" he asked. "As long as I'm human, you can't follow me around like this."

"How come?"

"Because it… I don't know… it's not… uh…"

"MY MASTER HATES ME!" GIR bawled, quickly rushing over and clinging to my leg.

"Hey!" I shouted.

Zim slapped a hand to his forehead. "Dammit, GIR, I don't _hate_ you," he said, trying to calm himself down. "It's just… I don't know what else to do. I'm _trying,_ alright? I-I'll be Irken again soon, and everything will go back to normal."

"Nuh-uh!" whimpered GIR. "Cause-a _her!"_

"What?" I yelped. "You filthy robot! Don't you go dragging _me_ into––"

"I hate to admit it, but the walking pile of scrap metal is right."

We all turned to see Tak standing in the doorway. "It doesn't matter _what_ you do," she continued. "Your stupid feelings for her will turn you human. _Indefinitely."_

"I really didn't want to get into an argument like this… with you… today," Zim snarled, standing to face Tak.

"Of course not," snorted Tak. "You don't care about _fighting_ anymore."

"You wanna _bet?"_ Zim snarled, cracking his knuckles.

"You've got some determination, I'll give you that," said Tak, "but where will that be once all your memories are gone?"

"What nonsense are you spouting _now,_ Tak?" Zim demanded of her.

"You didn't really think they'd stay with you?" Tak laughed. "That shard of Irken memories within you is your only hope right now, but soon it'll shatter, and you'll be left with nothing."

"Okay, Tak, this is getting stupid," said Dib, pulling a syringe out of the front pocket of his bag. He quickly pinned Tak against the wall and stuck the needle deep into her neck. "There."

"Ow!" Tak spat. "What the _hell_ was that?"

"Truth serum," Dib smirked, twirling the syringe around in one hand before throwing it back into his bag. "I'd meant to use it on you," he admitted, turning to look at Zim, "but when we talked, I realized I wouldn't need it." Oh, so they _did_ talk..?

"Thanks for trusting me so much, jackass," Zim groaned. Dib shrugged and turned back to the real problem at hand. Tak's face contorted into an awful sneer, and she stared my brother down.

"What makes you think it'll work on _me,_ human?" Tak snarled.

"Good question. Now let me ask _you_ one. What's your name?"

"Tak," she answered skeptically.

"Your SIR unit's name?"

"MiMi."

"And where do you keep the blueprints for your base?"

"In MiMi's memory disc." Tak slapped a hand over her mouth.

Dib grinned, and Zim and I exchanged glances.

"Right," said Dib, "now we're getting somewhere. Now, Tak. Zim keeps forgetting certain bits and pieces of Irken information." Tak's eyes lit up, but I could not read into why. "Every day, it gets worse. Is this your doing?"

"Yes." Well, fuck. But still, hooray? I mean, we were right about that one, anyway. At least this was something Tak could control.

"Is it Tallest Miyuki's, as well?"

"How much do you know about Tallest Miyuki?" Tak shrieked, glaring hatefully at Zim. All Tak had said to us about her was that she was dead. For all she knew, Zim had gone on and on about her. Of course, Miyuki wasn't someone Zim readily remembered, so could that have had her in a frenzy, too?

"Enough," Dib answered calmly. "But that isn't my question right now. Does she have anything to do with Zim's lapsing memory?"

"I don't know."

"So… how long will Zim be able to retain his memories of his life as an Irken?"

Tak muttered something into her hand. Dib pulled her hand away and said, "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"F-Five-thirty tomorrow," Tak replied, obviously wanting to lie, "as far as I can tell. Exactly one week after he first became human. Damn you!"

"How do I retain them before they're lost?" Zim demanded.

"Th-the Transmutation Device," answered Tak, struggling. "I just have to reverse the coordinates, and you'll get your Irken body back."

"Fight you for it!" Zim tried.

"You just want to hit something," I corrected blankly. Zim shrugged.

"You wretched scum!" Tak screamed at Zim. Dib had to hold her back against the wall to keep her from attacking. "You three have no idea how deep this runs, do you? You have no idea what good I'm doing!"

"Oh, for God's sake," Dib growled. "Seriously, Tak. Convince me you're doing good. I dare you."

"I was under the impression that I had done this poor, pathetic person a favor," Tak said, with a grin that could shatter glass. "Look at him. He forgets by the day, you say? Perfect. Let him live a shadow of a lie, in blissful ignorance. Let him wander this world unnoticed and unknowing! I would rather see him wiped clean off the Irken map for good than have to deal with him the way he's been these past several years!"

"Oh?" my brother prompted. "What do you mean by that? How he's been?"

"Yes!" Tak shouted, still struggling to hold her tongue. "Look at him, dammit! Look at that pathetic excuse for an Invader, miserable excuse for an Irken!" Tak shoved Dib off of her, but Dib was quick to catch her and hold her hands behind her back so she couldn't go anywhere. "You used to be different!" Tak screamed at Zim. Looking up at him, I saw his clear brown eyes widen in shock. I took in the entirety of his expression: whereas earlier in the week, his face would twist and contort in ways that would still make him appear to be slightly Irken, his reactions now were much more subdued, much more human. My heart started to race. He had found unplanned comfort in his new skin. Ever since Tak had drawn blood, he'd been getting—well, I guess I could say 'worse.' 'Less Irken.' The race ended abruptly; instead, my heart sank. I'd been led along with it. For that moment, I began to doubt myself; I began to wonder if my involvement with Zim had been one of Tak's plots to 'erase' him the entire time. He said that I reminded him of Miyuki. Perhaps Tak saw it, too, and used it. Hell, she could have programmed everything into the machine in the first place: everything Zim would experience. His PAK was still melting away inside him, wasn't it? Until it fully dissolved, or whatever, he would still be affected by it.

"Hey, I still have questions for you!" Dib spat at Tak.

"Wait," said Zim, almost too calmly. He held up a hand to accompany that word, and took a step toward Tak, away from me. "Different how?" Tak simply frowned up at him. She grit her teeth, managing to avoid answering. My brother held her steady, avoiding any instances of attack. Zim squared his shoulders and approached further. "Different _HOW?"_ he demanded, his strong, pale hands clenching into fists.

"For one thing," Tak growled, "you were never quite this stupid. This annoyingly persistent. You had strength. You had determination." A wicked sneer crossed her awkwardly pretty face, and she added, "You were an inspiration."

"Somehow I doubt that," Zim said, folding his arms, "but okay. If you say so. Then what happened to me?"

Tak growled and tried to avoid the question, but Dib kneed her in the ribs and yelled, "Answer the question!"

After catching her breath from the sudden shock, Tak snapped her head up to glare at Zim again. Once she had caught his attention, she forced out, "You killed the Tallest, that's what happened! What do you _think?_ That destroyed you, and you were never the same! You cut yourself away from everything that made you the way you had been, and you began your decline. You became such a fucking idiot—I can't stand dealing with you like that! You fucking imbicile! This is all you deserve! You brought this upon yourself!"

"Shut up!" Zim shouted. "I'm starting to doubt that the serum is still working. Either way, shut the fuck up and tell me what I can do to get back before I lose everything!"

Tak finally broke free of Dib's grasp, and used her rekindled mobility to grab Zim's shirt and haul him down to her level. I held my breath and took a few protective steps forward, but held myself back from going any further. I wanted answers just as much as anyone did. It was especially scary now that I'd begun to wonder whether or not my feelings were genuine. "My base," she leered. "Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock. Fight me there, and if you win, I'll reverse all of... this." On the last word, she shoved him back, but Zim easily caught his balance. After giving her words some thought, he slowly turned around to look at me. In his eyes, I saw longing, and an apology with no words. "And if you win," Tak added, casting a horrible—and dare I say slightly jealous?—glare at me, "I'll even extend your time another twenty-four hours so you can be with your _precious_ little princess!"

"Whadda ya mean, _'precious little…'_ wait. Y-You _would?"_ Zim wondered. I had to watch his reaction then. I had to see what I could of his hard-to-determine thought process. He seemed positively elated. There was life in his eyes.

I felt wonderful and terrible all at once. One or both of us was going to be hurt, I just knew it. Another day with him would be wonderful, of course, but I knew that it would only make me want him around even more. Maybe that was Tak's reasoning behind it at all.

"I'm telling the truth, aren't I?" Tak snarled. "But it's tomorrow or nothing."

"We have school tomorrow…" I said.

"GIR and I will see to it that we _don't,"_ Zim told me. He looked down at GIR. "Wanna have some fun and rewire the circuitry of the entire town, GIR?"

GIR happily gave the thumbs-up.

"You all make me _sick," _Tak groaned. "Tomorrow, then?"

"This is so easy…" Dib laughed to himself.

"Ten A.M. tomorrow," said Tak. "But, I'm only fighting _you,"_ she added, pointing a finger at Zim. "Your friends will stay out of the battle, or not only will you lose, you'll all _die._ Got that?"

We all nodded. Tak snorted and evanesced.

"YES!" Zim cried out. "Not only am I gonna kick her ass and set everything back to normal, but I get another day as a human!"

"You're… _happy_ about that?" Dib wondered.

We'd gathered our things and started walking away from the school at that point. GIR, the conniving little jerk that he is, made me carry him.

_"'Course_ I am," Zim answered my brother. "I've gotta enjoy it while it lasts. I mean, when else am I ever gonna be this tall, this strong, this…" he looked over at me and went red, "this happy to be alive?"

Dib said nothing; he looked pretty conflicted, though.

"So," I asked, changing the subject, "she probably means for us… you…" I corrected, looking at Zim, "to go to her _base,_ right?"

"I'd imagine," Dib replied.

"God _dammit!" _I spat. "I hate that place! I hate it so much! She got creative with the jail, but… _argh!_ She pisses me off!"

"First of all," said my brother, "we _have_ to go there; it's where her machines are." I groaned. "And secondly, she's got a _new_ base. Her old one isn't there anymore."

"And, survey says… we have _no clue_ where it is," Zim said, "am I right?"

"Ah… didn't take _that_ into consideration," Dib realized.

"Could_ you_ find it?" I asked GIR. "Can't you… I don't know… get a lock on MiMi or something and track her down?"

"I like cheese…" GIR answered, rolling around in my arms.

"Okay, _that_ does it," I snarled, dropping the little robot. "I give up. Screw you, you little––"

"Hey, quit it," Zim interrupted. GIR rocketed up and perched on Zim's bag. "I'm sure we can think of something. Right, GIR?"

"Cheese fondue!" cried GIR, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Uh…" said Zim, rasing an eyebrow. "Yeah… I'm sure we can figure it out. Wait… why are you guys going? She only wants to fight me."

"Actually, yeah…" Dib agreed, turning to look at me. "Why _are_ we going?"

"We've gotta make sure she sticks to her word," I reminded him. "This concerns us, too, Dib. We've gotta be positive she does something to reverse the time warp. Um… don't we?"

Dib scowled. "You just want to make sure you're there because _he_ will be," he reprimanded.

"S-So _what?"_ I shot back, blushing.

_"God,_ Dib," Zim cut in, "does it really bother you _that much?"_

"Hold on…" I added, "didn't you say…"

"Yeah, yeah," Dib said. "I just don't understand, that's all. I just don't understand _how_ you two could…" He stopped and whipped around. "We may be on good terms now," he yelled at Zim, "but in a couple of days, we'll be enemies again! Remember _that,_ if nothing else!"

Zim was taken aback, but then his eyes narrowed. "Shut up!" he shouted. "You know, you're actually doing a great job reminding me why I hated humans so much!"

_"Good!" _Dib retorted. "Now just _stay away_ from her!"

_"DIB!"_ I cried, grabbing him by the arm. "Stop it!"

"Gaz––"

"You're being _way_ too protective!" I said harshly.

"It's for your own good!"

"No, Dib. It's crazy." A thought hit me. "You're _jealous,_ aren't you?"

"What?" he spat. "Why _would_ I be?"

"It didn't work for you and Tak," I said, "so you find it unfair that _Zim..."_

"You and _Tak?"_ Zim laughed. "Wait… you _did_ have a thing for her, didn't you?"

"I… well…" Dib tried to cover. "Ugh, all right! Okay! So I'm a _little_ jealous." The red in his eyes started to come out. "Why couldn't _she_ have been the one to go human? Then I––" He slapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes widened back to complete brown, and he backed away. "I… I didn't mean that!"

My eyes widened. This was not good. I knew the red in his eyes would affect him somehow. I just didn't want to be ready for it.

"L-Let's go," he suggested. "Sorry, Gaz. Zim," he continued, a little angrily, "I… guess I'm sorry. "You're not Irken… you're right. I'll… just… treat you like a human until you go back."

Zim's eyes widened. "Thanks," he said in shock.

"Now let's forget this ever happened and go," Dib said. We've got a lot to prepare for."

Dib started walking away; Zim and I exchanged glances and followed at a slower pace.

With Dib distracted by his own thoughts, and while he stared straight ahead, Zim took the opportunity to take my hand as we walked. I accepted it, even squeezed it tightly. One thing I had discovered I wanted was stability. Stability and security. I had one family member I could count on, and one single friend. One friend who was about to leave my life forever, assuming turning Irken again meant completely erasing his new human mindset. I didn't want to jeapordize either relationship, but I didn't want either to be erased. I said none of this, and Zim stayed quiet as well, but we held onto each other. We'd promised to help each other out. We'd hold onto each other as long as we could. That much, at least, was one truth I could count on.

– – –

That night, long after we'd parted, I resolved to talk, once again, to my brother. I took a deep breath and walked into the garage, where he was preoccupied, still working on the Spittle Runner. I laughed to myself. With most guys, it's cars. With my brother, it's an alien spaceship. I cleared my throat. "Dib?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you?"

He slid out from underneath the Spittle Runner. "It's about Tak, isn't it?" he asked. I nodded. "Thought so." He went back to work.

"Come _on,_ Dib!"

"What's there to say?" he grumbled. "I messed up. I had a _little_ crush on her last year, and I snapped today. I don't know what came over me, and I said I was sorry, which, I hope you know, I_ am._ Pass me my glasses, would you?"

"Come out and get them yourself!"

Dib moaned and once again slid out from underneath the ship. He grabbed a towel and wiped off his hands, then leaned back against a toolbench. "What happened?" he sighed. "How did we all slip so far?" I saw tears in his eyes. "Can I ask you something, Gaz?"

"Sure, I guess."

"How can you… _why_ do you love him?"

I was silent for a moment, then said, "I don't know. It seems as though it just sort of happened, but… I guess it's mostly… why do you want to know this?"

"Just seeing if it's what I saw in Tak," Dib told me. "Seing if it's an Irken thing."

"I doubt it," I replied with a slight laugh. "What I like about Zim is his personality. He's really nice to me."

Dib raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. Plus, he listens when I have something to say, and well… I don't know… he's just so…"

"Different?" Dib offered with a grin.

I laughed. Dib took his glasses off of a nearby shelf and slid them on. He then walked over and, without warning, hugged me. "Gaz…" he said, "don't think I'm completely heartless. I realize I've been really protective, but… I just don't want you to get hurt."

I felt my eyes water. "Thanks, Dib," I said. Then, I lost it and cried into my brother's shoulder. "Oh, God, Dib, I'm sorry! But… he's going to be _gone_ in two days!"

_"I_ won't be," Dib consoled me, his low voice sounding kind and welcome, and more sincere than ever. "I'm your brother, Gaz. Don't just assume that I don't care. I know I can't fill certain voids… I wouldn't _want_ to… but, just know that _I'm_ here for you, too. Now, and in the future."

"Thanks," I said again. I dried my eyes and stepped back, but had to stay to ask: "So, you talked to him?"

"I did," Dib confirmed, going about buffering out a spot on the side of the Runner, probably so he could avoid eye contact with me during this conversation.

"And..?"

Dib sighed. "No," he said, "you were right, he's not all that bad. It just makes me nervous, because usually, yeah, he is. And he couldn't give me a straight answer, either... he just told me he loved you." My heart skipped. "It was kinda hard for me to digest, I'll admit. I asked him how he knew, and he apologized for not being able to come up with particular reasons. He said it seemed to come together on its own, and he was glad that it had. I don't know. This is weird for me to be talking about. But, yes, I talked to him, yes, I agree he's a tolerable person now, but yes, I'm still going to be on my guard, because, yes, he is going to change again."

"Hypothetically," I ventured, "if he were actually human..?"

My brother hesitated, then said, "Then I'd probably be okay with him dating you. But he isn't human."

"Right, right." Still, that much was nice to hear.

I went to bed that night feeling as though a tremendous weight had been lifted off my shoulders. That didn't change the fact that Zim and I would be parted soon, though, and it scared me. I'm not a very religious girl, but that night, I actually _prayed_ that Tak would really extend Zim's time as a human, hoping that he was wishing the same thing.

– – –

I was awakened the next morning by my father shouting "DAMN!" over and over again. I forced myself to get up and go down into his lab.

"Dad, you're being _really loud," _I griped.

"You don't _understand,_ Gaz!" he said frantically. "The power is out _all over_ the city, and I can't seem to fix it!" I raised an eyebrow. "Why," he continued, "it seems as though something or someone has rewired the circuitry into some strange pattern!" His hands flew to his head. "I'll have to go down to the main lab… but _still,_ this will take _hours_ to fix! Damn, _damn, DAMN!"_

"You just keep swearing, Dad," I said unemotionally, turning to go. "I'm gonna go get ready for school."

"Oh, the schools are closed down," Dad told me. "The lights and computers are out of operation."

"Woo_-hoo!"_ I cried spontaneously. I for some reason, gave my father a hug, then dashed upstairs. "Dib!" I shouted, rushing into his room, where he was only half-dressed.

"Ack! Hey! Gaz, what're you doing?" he yelped, quickly pulling a shirt on.

"Sorry," I said, then grinned. "Zim and GIR did it!"I announced. "The power's out! Let's go watch him kick Tak's ass!"

"What _time_ is it?"

"I don't know, but we don't know where Tak's base is, so…"

"I get it, I get it," said Dib, laughing a little. "Go get ready, and we'll go to Zim's base––ah, _house––_and try to get a lock on Tak."

"Okay." I washed and dressed in record time, and my brother and I were soon off. When we made it to Zim's house, I took a good look at the exterior, since it would soon be Invader Zim's base once again. I wondered for a selfish miute what it would be like if life were indeed to continue on the way the warp had set it. About how I'd go about days at school, work at night, and spend weekends here. With my boyfriend. Fuck, fuck, fuck—I just had to go and write that.

When I knocked on the door, Dib remarked, "A little eager, are you?"

I blushed and shrugged. After a moment, Zim's mother opened the door. "Oh, hello," she greeted with a broad smile. "How are you two?"

"Fine," Dib and I answered simultaneously.

"All right, see you later, Mom," said Zim, walking up behind her.

"Hold it," she said, grabbing him by the collar. "You still haven't told me where you're going."

"I'm taking Gaz out for breakfast," he lied, prying his mother's hand off.

"I'm just here cuz my dad's lab is nearby," Dib added, "and I'm gonna help him out today."

"Well, don't let me hold you up," Zim's mother smiled.

"See ya," said Zim. "Come on, GIR." GIR tore out of the house in his dog suit.

"God _damn,_ your mom's gullible," I noted when we were a safe distance from the house.

"I told you," Zim smirked. He stretched. "Ah… I'm ready for this fight," he said. "GIR managed to track MiMi; Tak's not too far off."

"Great," I remarked; "and it's almost ten, too."

"So, how intact are your memories?" Dib asked.

Zim shrugged. "I can't tell," he answered. "I mean, I _know_ I'm forgetting things, but I don't know just _what,_ once it's gone."

"Irken history," I prompted.

"Couldn't tell you a damn thing."

"How to operate Irken crafts?" Dib tried.

"You're _kidding,_ right?"

"Irken anatomy?" I pressed.

"Alright, look," said Zim. "The only Irken I can even _picture_ in my mind is Tak." He ran his right hand through his hair nervously. "The leaders… whoever they are, I don't know… I can't even _begin_ to place, and as for me…" He laughed. "I don't even remember what I looked like!" he said. "I remember stuff I did, but, for the life of me, I can't picture myself as an Irken." He shuddered. "I actually don't really want to." He paused, then slapped himself across the face. "No," he muttered to himself, "don't think like that. That's why I'm fighting today: so I _will_ remember. So that I'll… go back…"

"You okay?" I asked.

"I'll be fine," Zim assured me. "I'm mainly fighting this for _you,"_ he added. "You know that, right? So you can have your own life back..?"

I nodded, then, hesitantly, clasped his hand in mine. Zim turned to look at me and smiled, causing me to blush. I felt a sting in my chest. I missed him already.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Dib asked, "How much farther, GIR?"

"THAT ONE!" GIR announced, pointing to a nearby building.

We all stopped and stared at Tak's new base. It was smaller than her old one, but––if it was at all possible––it stood out more. It seemed as if she'd gotten a little lazy with the design, as it looked more like Zim's base had, with awful wires and windows placed in architecturally nightmarish patterns.

Zim heaved a sigh. "Well," he said, "this is it." I hugged him tightly, and he returned the gesture.

"Good luck," I told him, not wanting to let go.

"I'll do my best," he replied. Then, without giving a thought to the fact that my cautious brother was looking on, Zim kissed me gently, over the place on my jaw that had long since healed after the fight we'd had on the roof. "One for good luck?" he asked in a whisper. Speechless, I nodded, memorizing his eyes. Zim showed a sad but winning smile, then tilted my chin up and kissed me almost desperately. When he pulled back, there was a sad determination in his expression.

"Zim…" said Dib when we'd parted.

"Yeah?" Zim wondered, ready for anything Dib was about to complain about.

"Um… yeah, good luck," my brother forced himself to say. I had to congratulate him, silently, for not freaking out. "Also… I owe you one. For saving my life."

Zim smirked. "I'll try to remember that."

The door swung open; Zim braced himself and walked into Tak's base. Dib, GIR and I follwed.

Okay, Tak must have been using a cloaking device or something, because the inside of her base was _enormous._ The outside looked oogie (probably to repel passersby), but the inside looked like a cross between an Irken laboratory and a dojo… and it was _awesome._ I wished I'd brought a camera for a second, but then remembered that the photos would be nonexistant when we went back home.

Zim cleared his throat and hollered, "I'm here, Tak! Come on out! Show yourself!"

A hole opened up in the floor, and Tak ascended into the room on an elevator-dias. "And here I thought you'd be late," she said, flickering into hologram. "Shall we, then?"

Zim cracked his knuckles. "My pleasure," he said darkly.

"You three had better not interfere," Tak warned me, Dib and GIR. "You know the consequence."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you'll kill us," Dib said, shrugging it off. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "Hurry it up, will you?"

Tak said, "Hmf," and turned back to Zim. "I _dare_ you to bring me to my knees," she sneered.

"That should be easy," Zim shot back, crouching into a ready position. "Are we gonna do this, or what?"

"That's an interesting stance," Tak remarked. "What's wrong? Forgot your Irken battle training?"

"Don't go using confusion as a weapon, Tak!" Zim barked. "Besides, I think the techniques I've learned as a human should work _just_ _fine!"_

With that, he lunged at Tak, and executed a number of frontal attacks, all of which Tak managed to block. "Is that the best you've got?" she snarled.

"No… I'm just getting _started!"_ Zim yelled at her, kicking her square in the face, sending her sprawling backwards. He then grabbed her by one arm, flipped her over his head, and kicked her into the wall, leaving an indent. He walked over and pinned her to the wall with his right hand, keeping it clenched firmly around her thin neck. "Had enough yet?" he asked her.

"I've got a higher resistance than you, human!" Tak spat. _"I'm_ just getting started, _too!"_

Tak pried Zim's hand off, propelled herself away from the wall, then swung Zim around and into the wall. She exposed her PAK and extended the spider legs, positioning them. She aimed a blast at Zim, but he quickly ducked and did a low kick, tripping Tak.

Zim picked Tak up and punched her hard, in the manner that one would serve a volleyball. He took a couple of deep breaths. "How about _now?"_ he panted while keeping an angered tone.

Tak just laughed and picked herself up. "Not even _close,"_ she answered. "You're already getting tired, though, aren't you? You're sweating."

"I can't _help_ that!" Zim shouted. "Humans sweat!"

Tak kept laughing. "They're no match for an _Irken,_ either!" she boasted. _"Now_ do you see what I've reduced you to?"

_"Reduced_ me to?" Zim shouted, once again attacking her. "Maybe you should re-word that!" he yelled at her as he struck. "I'm stronger than I could ever have hoped to be… I'm nearly _twice_ the size of the average Irken… how can you say you've _reduced_ me to something when you've actually made me this _strong?"_

"Wake the hell up, human!" yelled Tak, backhanding Zim. He shook his head and stumbled back in shock. _"Strength…_ hah!" Tak spat, kicking her heel hard into Zim's side. "Delusions of grandeur for someone so low!"

Zim grabbed her foot and threw her into the floor. "Try telling me _that_ didn't hurt!" he shouted.

Tak jumped back up. "Okay, so it's about _pain,_ now, is it?" she asked rhetorically. "Fine."

She punched Zim on his upper right arm… right on the bandaged laceration.

Zim cried out and clutched the wound tightly with his left hand, taking several steps back. The gash obvioulsy had opened up again, I could tell, because blood slowly started to trickle down his arm and between his fingers.

"And the blood begins to flow!" Tak laughed shrilly.

I wanted to intervene in the worst way. Not being able to fight, I settled on screaming at the top of my lungs, _"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" _Dib quickly restrained me.

Tak ignored me, as she had several times before.

_"Now_ do you see what I'm talking about, Zim?" she continued. "No matter how _'strong'_ you may be, your body is easily scarred, easily harmed… frail, weak, so easy to destroy!"

Zim glared at her, full of a spiteful rage. In his eyes, I saw, once again, the spark lit by the Irken he had been, and still was, very deep down inside. "You can't destroy me," he snarled. His tone was dark, and I was reminded of the lead-in to our own fight, when he'd snapped and shoved me repeatedly into the wall.

"What makes you think I can't?" Tak snorted.

"You're too weak," Zim panted, his knees buckling a little as his arm continued to bleed. He caught himself and continued, glaring at her despite the hair that had fallen into his eyes. "All you do is talk," he went on, growling a bit as he spoke, making his deep voice sound rather ominous. "You claim to be so powerful… but all you are is a liar, Tak. You're insecure. You claim that my body is weak, and maybe it is. Maybe I could be crushed at any second… but not by you. If you're so powerful, Tak… destroy me. I want to see you do it. Go ahead. Right now, end it all. I know you can't do it."

"Shut up!" Tak barked. "Shut _up,_ you stupid human!"

"Human," Zim said flatly, his breaths still a bit shaky. His tone had returned to his calmer, more even one. The tone of voice, the voice alone, I'd come to love. He picked himself up a little, staggering as he did so, obviously becoming more drained of energy with every drop of blood that fell. "I can remember once using that word the way you do now. I remember saying it as though it were the most degrading, insulting thing to ever be said to a person. I remember hating the word, never wanting it to be used to describe me." He lifted his head, and glared at Tak with his piercing brown eyes. "But now that it does," he went on, "I feel stronger than ever before."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Tak snapped at him, circling him forebodingly. "I've downsized you! When are you going to realize that?"

"Maybe that's the stubbornness in me," Zim replied, unwavering, "but I don't think I'll ever see things the way you do, Tak. Now are you gonna destroy me or what?"

"Will you _stop that?"_ Tak shrieked. "Damn you for being so persistant!" She walked straight up to Zim and, though she had to look up a couple inches, stared right into his eyes. "You're a _fucking_ human, and I _fucking_ hate you!" she growled. "You _ruined_ my life, you've _spoiled_ my plans, and nothing I do in return even seems to _faze_ you! You frustrate me! I hate you, Zim! I _fucking hate you!"_

Zim managed to stay calm the whole time, and, to Tak's chagrin, he actually smirked at her comment. "I hope I was never as Goddamn stupid as you," he said flatly.

Tak slapped Zim across the face and backhanded him on the return. "Stop it!" she screamed. "Stop _saying_ these things! You're supposed to _hate_ this! We're supposed to be _even!_ I did this to you so I would _ruin your life!"_

Zim lifted his hand off of the cut, wincing a little as he did so, and clenched both hands into fists at his sides, straightening to full height. "Well, then," he said in an incredibly dark tone, "I suppose you've failed."

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" screamed Tak. "Just _fight _me! Fight me like the opponent I know you can be!"

Zim snarled. "Let's get this _over_ with, then!"

Tak opened her mouth to say something, then took a few steps away from Zim. "Ugh," Tak spat, making a disgusted face. "You _reek_ of human blood! Doesn't that _bother_ you?"

"Don't _like_ it, huh?" Zim said, unraveling the bandage on his arm gingerly. "Well, let's see how you like _this!"_

He took the bloodied cloth bandage in his left hand and whipped Tak across the face with it. Tak touched a hand to her cheek and screamed when she drew it away, noticing the blood on her hand. It was an earsplitting scream; I could tell she was truly disgusted.

"How _dare_ you?" she shrieked. She extended her spider legs again and sent a blast at Zim. He darted away, barely missing it. He then rushed behind Tak and wrapped the bandage around her neck, choking her with it.

"Give up yet?" he shouted.

Tak screamed again and writhed free. She coughed, covering her nose and mouth with her clean hand. "Oh, my _Tallest!"_ she cried out. "How can you not _smell_ that? That… _horrid… stench!"_

"It's my own blood," Zim said, readying himself again after tossing the bandage aside. "It doesn't bother me."

Tak backed away, coughing. "How can it _not?"_ she wondered. "Human blood has the most vile, pungent smell in the _universe!_ How can it not bother you that it's _your blood,_ Zim? Your disgusting, _human blood?"_

"So maybe I reek of human blood," Zim remarked, "but my sense of smell is different from yours, Tak. Plus, I've _accepted_ that I'm human, now. It doesn't bother me." He smirked. "I guess that gives me the upper hand!"

He attacked her again, and this time, Tak held back a lot, fighting only with one hand, since she was still trying to avoid the smell of human blood.

"This ends _now!"_ shouted Zim. He grabbed Tak between the shoulderblades and yanked her PAK off. Her hologram immediately disappeared, and she fell to the floor, screaming.

"YES!" I cried happily. "He did it!" I rushed over to Zim, and Dib walked up behind me, as did GIR. "You _did_ it, Zim!" I exclaimed. "You _won!"_

"Yeah…" he replied, breathing heavily. "I did…" He shoved the PAK into my hands. "Hold this, will you?" he asked. "But be careful!" I nodded, and held it away from my body.

Zim scowled at Tak and picked her up by the collar. "Now, I don't remember the time limit on that," he said, "but I know you don't have long to live, so you'd better make good on that deal of ours!"

"Okay, okay! Just put me down!" Tak coughed, her eyes watering.

"God, Tak, are you _allergic_ to my blood or something?" Zim wondered, raising an eyebrow. "You're reacting real violently."

"I-It's because you're spilling so _much_ of it," she told him. "I just can't take it! I _can't!"_

Zim dropped Tak. "Hurry up," he ordered, folding his arms. "Reverse everything. The time warp, what you did to me… everything!"

"I can't do _anything_ without my PAK!" Tak coughed. "Give it to me!"

"First give me your word that you'll do all you said you would!" Zim barked.

"Yes, yes, I do!" cried Tak. "I swear!"

Zim nodded to me, and I knealt, reattaching the PAK to our enemy's back. Tak activated her hologram and stood. "MiMi!" she called. "Help me!"

"I think this is one thing you should do alone," a familiar voice said from behind us. We all turned.

"Miyuki?" I gasped when I recognized the voice. Zim looked almost hopeful.

"Well… I guess I fooled you," said… said…

_"MIMI?"_ Tak cried out in alarm.

Sure enough, Tak's SIR unit sat before us, in hologram. "I've done as you've asked me for the most part, mistress," said MiMi, her red eyes flashing with every syllable, "but I did take a few liberties."

"Th-that thing can _talk?"_ Dib stammered.

"That _'thing'_ indeed!" MiMi scoffed. "But, yes, I've been fitted with a voice chip."

"You!" I shouted, pointing at her. "You were the one in my computer! You were the one who created that game!"

"That's right."

"You were _helping_ them?" Tak cried, walking up to MiMi, disposing of her own hologram.

"I'm sorry, but you _had_ gone a little too far," MiMi told her mistress. "I did try to recruit Dib, as you'd asked me, but…"

"I didn't give you a voice chip so you could aid those _humans!"_ shrieked Tak.

"Mistress, you were tampering where you shouldn't have been!" MiMi snapped. "The SIR units' code does not allow for illegal use of time travel! I was only doing what was right for us all!"

"I can't _believe _you, MiMi!"

"So… wait," I said, holding a hand up, "Miyuki… doesn't factor into this at _all?"_

"Oh, she does," MiMi corrected, "but only as creator of these machines we have used." Hah, so Dib had been right! And I'd been right about Tak trying to interfere and get my brother on her side. Fucking bitch. "She seemed a perfect alibi…"

"How could I have forgotten..?" Zim asked himself quietly. "Of all things… how could I have forgotten her _voice?"_ He clenched his hands into fists. "You _liar!"_ he shouted. "How _dare_ you? How dare you toy with my mind like that? I really believed that was _her! I almost believed she was alive!"_

"So sorry to disappoint," said MiMi, "but you are still my enemy, despite the fact that I helped you a bit just this once."

"You conniving little…" Zim growled. _"I'LL KILL YOU! BOTH OF YOU!"_

I held him back. "I'm as confused as you are," I said reassuringly, "so… don't attack just yet." I turned to Tak and MiMi. "What is this all about, anyway? Why all the lies? Who was Miyuki?"

Tak sighed. "Miyuki was the most powerful Irken Tallest in history," she said, "not only in her leadership qualities, but in her mystic abilities. About a century ago, she was killed. By _you,"_ she added, looking at Zim. "You also killed her successor, Spork. That's why I'm here. I was sent to rid the Empire of you, with the promise of _becoming_ an Invader if I succeeded, but those two fools got in my way and I ended up warping time."

"Wow," Dib commented. "So you _did _have a plan."

"A poor one," MiMi said, glaring at Tak.

"Is that why you helped us?" I wanted to know.

"Exactly. It was mainly _that_ thing I was training," MiMi confessed, looking at GIR. "I wanted a worthy opponent."

"But you _did_ try to lure me to your side," Dib accused Tak.

"I was confused and didn't know what to do!" Tak screamed. "But I do now. MiMi… the restraints." MiMi narrowed her eyes and darted to the other side of the room, returning with what looked like thick handcuffs, only they weren't linked together. "These are linked directly to the second machine," Tak explained, "the Transmutation Device. As for the first, the Time Warp Machine, it should trigger about an hour after these go into effect."

With that, she threw the metal cuffs straight at Zim, and they snapped perfectly around his wrists. "The countdown has begun," said Tak. "They'll break at five-thirty tomorrow, and at that time you'll be Irken again."

Zim winced and held his head. "There must be side effects," he said. "I feel sick."

"Oh, that." Tak laughed. "They might drain your energy and strength a little bit, but it's nothing to worry about."

"What about _me,_ Tak?" Dib asked. "Did you really do anything to me?"

"Well––"

"I did nothing," MiMi told him.

"Even if she did," Tak added, "you'll be unaffected once normalcy is resumed."

I almost said something about his eyes, but I didn't.

"And what about _you?"_ my brother demanded of Tak. "You'll probably just up and leave after all of this, right?"

"You _are_ smart," Tak remarked. "That's right; I'll be leaving, but you haven't seen the last of me. Now, get the hell out of here."

"W-Wait!" I said. "You still haven't answered all of my questions!"

"Well, then, doesn't _that_ suck for _you,_ little Gaz?"

"I'm not so little!" I roared. "Come closer to me and say that!"

"I'll pass," Tak snarled, extending her spider legs. "Leave, all of you! MiMi and I have repairs to do and much to plan."

"But––"

"OUT!" Tak cried, sending a blast at us.

Zim stepped out in front of me (and Dib, for that matter… and GIR, I guess) and outstretched his arms, taking the full blast himself.

"ZIM!" I screamed, just before the blast sent us crashing through the wall and out of Tak's base. The hole in the wall closed up almost immediately, and we all hit the ground hard.

"I WIN!" exclaimed GIR. "I really do!"

Zim groaned and slowly sat up.

"You… _idiot!"_ Dib said angrily. "Why the _hell_ did you do that? You're half dead already!"

"Are you okay?" I asked Zim, going for the more subtle approach.

"My whole body hurts like hell…" he groaned, "but… _you're_ okay, right?" He looked at me hopefully. "You're not hurt?"

"I'm fine," I told him. "Thanks to you."

He smiled. "That's good." With that, he passed out. I gasped and started to panic.

"Guess he reached his limit," Dib shrugged. "He is human… after all…"

"What're we gonna _do?"_ I wondered frantically. "We can't just…"

Dib rolled his eyes. "I said I owed him one," he said, standing.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," Dib answered, "to get the car. I don't have to worry anymore… plus, I want one more time behind the wheel before we go back, anyway."

"That's really nice of you…" I let him know.

Just before he could leave, MiMi darted out of Tak's base and sat, in cat guise, before us. "Well done," she said, her red eyes flashing as she spoke.

"MiMi," I began. "Will you answer all my questions? There's still a lot I don't understand."

"You'll have to wait," MiMi said. "Your questions will be answered later."

"And by later, you mean no time in my immediate future?" I guessed.

"Exactly," answered MiMi plainly.

"Wait," I added, before she could go. "Um... this ordeal... it was emotion-based, right?"

MiMi hesitated, then said, "Of course."

"So... the way Zim's been feeling... the way, um..." I growled, angry at myself for not being articulate. "Was the way he's been acting, as a human... was that all him?"

"Live well with the assurance," said MiMi, "that very little of this operation was orchestrated. You are only as you are. I cannot reveal to you what feelings belonged to him," she added, ticking her head down to indicate Zim, "but I can tell you that he changed indeed during this ordeal. It is with confidence that I forsee these changes holding strong to him in the future."

"So, he was being himself?" I translated hopefully.

"Only his physical change was planned," MiMi told me. "All other occurrences were based on his own levels of acceptance and experience."

"And, I know he has to go back," I added, getting stupidly teary, "but is there a possibility—"

"The future will reveal its plans as they occur," MiMi said, then sped away.

"Goddammit," I cursed.

Dib smiled. "I'll be back," he told me. "Just hold on."

"Okay."

He started off. I looked down at Zim; he was breathing heavily, and his breaths were staggered and slow. The wound from the dagger was caked in blood, and there was still some fresh blood on his arm. Hesitantly, I put a hand to his forehead. He was burning up. I also touched upon a few beads of sweat. Zim really had worked himself up and reached his limit. His seemingly limitless strength had actually worn out. I wanted to help him so badly.

"GIR," I said, turning to the robot, who saluted. "Will you do me a favor… to help your master?"

GIR nodded.

"Go home and get one of those bandages," I instructed, "for Zim's arm. Get anything else you think will help, too, okay, GIR?" I added, wording my request as easily for the dumb robot to understand as I could. _"Hurry."_

"Why?"

"Uh…" I thought for a moment. "It's a race," I decided on, "to see if you're faster than Dib."

GIR saluted again and rocketed off.

I ran a hand through Zim's thick, unruly hair, trying to memorize the feel of it. "Just hold on. I'm going to help you," I promised him, "just as you helped me."

Moments after he left, GIR returned, looking triumphant. "I win _again!"_ he announced. He held up the bandage, and displayed his findings: a wet cloth (which really surprised me), a squeaky moose, and one of Zim's sweatshirts. GIR grabbed the moose, proclaiming, "MINE!" and curled up in the sweatshirt.

I rolled my eyes and gently washed the blood off of Zim's right arm with the cloth. He stirred uncomfortably. Even more cautiously, I set about wrapping the bandage around the laceration.

"Thank you."

I gasped. Zim opened his eyes and looked up at me.

"Y-You're welcome," I said, finishing what I was doing. "It's best if you don't move," I instructed. "Dib went to get the car; he should be back any second."

Zim grinned. "Trying to pay me back, is he?"

I laughed a little. "Hey," I said, switching gears, "you passed out for a couple minutes. Will you be able to stand?"

"I'm sure I can," Zim answered, fighting for control of his breath, "but not for very long." He slowly held up his left hand and glanced blankly at the wristcuff. "These things…" he said. "They're digging into my skin. They're… killing me." He lowered his hand again and heaved a sigh. "Thank you, though," he said again. "Really."

"Well," I said, "we said we'd help each other out, right?" That got him to smile, warmly.

Just then, Dib pulled up in the car. _"Man,_ that felt great!" he announced. He got out and opened the back door.

"Time to make good on that attempt at standing," I said to Zim.

"Gotcha." Shakily, he sat up.

"Woah," said Dib, "he's awake."

"Not for long," Zim corrected, standing. I stood, too, and provided as much support as I could. "I'm sure I'll be out again pretty soon." When we got to the car, he sprawled out in the back seat and remarked. "I never thought I could _be_ in so much pain!"

GIR darted into the car, too, carrying the items.

"Hey," I said as Dib and I got in, "Dib, do you think, for old time's sake… that being the beginning of this whole ordeal… um…"

Dib rolled his eyes again. "Zim, you're welcome to stay with us for the night," he said, answering the quesiton I hadn't even asked yet.

"Thanks," Zim managed to say.

Once we had gotten to our house, Zim fell asleep on our sofa.

"I can't believe he took the blast for us like that," Dib remarked. "Well, for _you,_ anyway. God…" He sighed. "He really loves you, doesn't he?"

"Once again… yes," I replied.

Dib smiled. "Tomorrow," he said, "I'll let you two be together. I'll leave you alone. I promise."

"Thanks, Dib," I grinned.

As for the rest of that particular day, nothing else really happened. I helped my brother a little on the Spittle Runner. When I asked him why he was still bothering doing repairs on it, he replied that, first of all, it gave him an idea of what to do to the ship once we got back, and secondly, it was simply something fun and interesting for him. He also liked having something of Tak's... something to keep her pissed, and to give us the upper hand against her for her inevitable second return.

I found it both amusing and just a little sad that my brother enjoyed toying with Irken machinery, and Zim had completely forgotten how to operate it. He'd know again soon enough, I reminded myself. _If he ever wakes up,_ I thought to myself, trying not to get too depressed.

– – –

At about five in the morning, I awoke to find Zim standing in my doorway.

"Oh, hello," I greeted, forcing myself awake.

"Good, you're awake!" Zim grinned, speaking in a hushed tone.

"So are you," I pointed out. "When'd you come to?"

"A couple hours ago," he answered, shrugging.

I sat on the edge of my bed. "So what's up?"

"Come up to the roof with me," he suggested. He was wearing the sweatshirt GIR had brought for him, and was holding a couple of blankets, which I had brought into the living room for him when he'd passed out on the sofa, just in case he'd need them.

"The roof?" I wondered.

He shrugged. "Seems like a good place to start the day."

"It's five a.m.," I reminded him, sitting up slowly.

"I know. I've been up at five a.m. before. When the week started. Please, just come up with me..?"

I laughed, wanting to go along with anything he could possibly suggest. "All right."

So I got out of bed, pulled on a thick pair of socks and a tight black sweater, then took out my ladder and opened up the hatch to the roof. Zim followed me up, then laid out one blanket and set the other to the side. We sat, silently, next to each other, and Zim kissed me just above my right ear. "Sorry I woke you up so early," he said, his voice still early-morning soft.

"It's okay," I assured him. I'm much more of a night person, but knowing Zim would only be around until 5:30 that evening made our choices of times a little lean. I yawned, as I hoped I wouldn't, which got an odd laugh out of Zim.

"You're still tired," he observed.

"Yeah, sorry."

He shrugged. "It's fine," he said. "Go ahead and lie down if you want." He held up the other blanket. "Honestly, I just wanted to be up here for the sunrise."

I realized that I'd never really watched a sunrise. I've stayed up all night, sure, but I've never taken the time to watch. Still, exhaustion got the better of me, so I laid down, facing out to where I knew the sun would be coming up. Zim set the blanket over me, then placed his left hand on my shoulder. After a few minutes, I dozed off, but woke again just as the sky was taking on orange hues. Zim was stroking my hair, softly, absently; he hadn't moved from my side.

"It's pretty," I admitted.

"Yeah," Zim agreed. "I love seeing how the colors blend together. I've never seen mixes of colors like that before. Earth is... a lot greater than I'd ever given it credit for..."

"Mm..." His light touch soothed me back to sleep.

I roused for the last time when the sun was completely in the sky. Everything that happened then... waking beside Zim, sitting up to tell him a proper good morning, returning the kiss he gave me... were actions I feared I'd never know again. Something else about having Zim around: I knew I'd never be able to match him. He'd spoiled me. No other guy could ever know me and be what I needed the way he was.

"Good morning," I mumbled again, nestling my head into the crook of his shoulder. "You were right about the sunrise. Sorry I kept falling asleep on you."

"It's okay," he assured me. "So, it was okay? I'm not being too cliché, am I?"

"Oh, it's cliché as hell," I laughed, "but it's fine."

Zim grinned. "You wanna go out?" he asked me.

"Huh?"

"I never actually took you out on a date," he said, "and if I don't now, I never _will._ So, what do you say?"

I smiled. "Let me get ready," I said. "I'd really like to go out with you."

We both laughed, and he ruffled my hair. He then helped me to my feet, and we gathered the blankets and headed back down the hatch and ladder into my room. Once there, Zim offered to take the blankets back downstairs, where I promised I'd meet him.

This was it. This was Zim's last day as a human. I couldn't believe it. He'd changed so much. He'd become my best and only friend. And now, in just a few short hours, he would be gone.

_No, not yet,_ I reminded myself. _Not… forever…_ I added hopefully.

I showered and dressed more tediously than I would have liked. I felt really girly that morning, what with taking the time to find what I considered to be my nicest outfit and making sure I looked okay. More than okay, actually. Nice. _Pretty,_ even.

_'Beautiful…'_

I felt a sting in my chest again as the word echoed in my ears from several nights ago. Did he really mean that? He must have, I told myself. "He does," I said aloud. "He _did_ mean it… but after today, he'll never think that about me again."

I shook my head of those thoughts and walked downstairs. When I entered the living room, only Zim was there. I'm not sure where GIR had run off to, but I was positive my brother was in the garage, still slaving over the ship he had become so obsessed with lately.

"You sure you wanna do this?" I asked Zim. "I mean… it's your _last day_ as a human!"

"And how _else_ would I spend it?" he grinned in reply.

I found myself blushing again. Zim put a hand on my shoulder and lead me out. After we'd been walking for a moment, I noticed again that he was wearing the sweatshirt that GIR had grabbed for him the day before.

"Why are you wearing that?" I wondered.

"Huh? What?"

"That," I repeated, pointing to the loose-fitting black sweatshirt.

"Oh, this." Zim tugged at it. "It covers up the metal things on my wrists, see?" He rolled his right sleeve up a bit, revealing the cuff, then obscured his wrist again.

"I get it," I said. "Good call."

"Thanks." His mood suddenly changed and he said, "I can hide them… but it doesn't stop them from being there."

"Do they still hurt?"

"A little," he sighed. "It's mostly what they stand for that I don't like." He shook his head. "But let's not talk about that now," he said, smiling again. That was another thing I loved about him: his smile. I just always felt so wonderful whenever he smiled at me.

"So, what do you wanna do?" Zim asked me. He outstretched his arms. "We have the whole _day!_ It's ours. What do you feel like doing?"

"Anything," I replied.

"Ah, come on, that's no way to start," laughed Zim. "There must be _some_thing. What comes to mind?"

"Well..." I began. I thought for a minute, and, God knows why, all I could come up with was, "Should we start with breakfast?"

Zim laughed—another thing about him that was no longer Irken was the light, simple way he laughed—and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "Breakfast," he repeated. "Good plan."

"I forgot my wallet," I realized.

"I didn't. And I'm paying," Zim grinned. "I'm your boyfriend, remember?"

The word jostled me and made my heart leap again. But I let go of whatever unease there was, and accepted it. Today, we could just be together, no questions asked. Today, he was my boyfriend. Worked for me.

"How do you have money, anyway?" I had to ask, as we took the long way into town.

"Found a wallet, there was money in it," said Zim. "In my _room,"_ he added before I could accuse him of theft. "I'm glad GIR grabbed this sweatshirt for that reason, too... I'd stuffed it in here. Oh, and um, there's something else..."

"What?"

"I'll tell you later," Zim smiled. "Just don't let me forget."

So we walked, as a couple—strange and new as that felt, through the turning autumn trees and into the expansive downtown pseudometropolis. There's a coffee and tea place (not the one I had earlier stopped into) away from most of the city noise, which was precisely where we headed, and sat down to share an order of Eggs Benedict, and lingered over a cup of coffee each—we each took milk and sugar. We talked about nothing in particular, since neither of us wanted to dwell on the looming obvious. We pretended to talk about school, then moved into hobbies, which of course became about music.

Zim admitted that he wished that he could have heard me play the guitar more; I tried to work out a schedule that would allow us to head back to my house so I could play for him before he had to 'leave.' In discussing musical taste, Zim said that he wished he had time to develop some, so I immediately blurt out that he should take to following the career of Bloody Nails Melissa.

"She's amazing," I babbled, engrossed by my favorite Goth guitarist. "I think you'd like her music, I mean, really! And she's local, so she's easy to follow. She's got a voice, too. I've never been old enough to go to one of her concerts, but sometimes she plays daytimes in coffee shops just for the hell of it. Well, that and exposure."

"If she's an influence of yours, then she must be good," said Zim. His eyes had barely left mine through the talk. His coffee—well, his second cup—was sitting virtually untouched. "You're really into this Goth thing, huh?"

I shrugged modestly. "I mean, I identify with it, yeah," I said. "I feel like identity is about personality, and music, and literature, and all that. Goth is just what I've always migrated to. It's melancholy; it's familiar."

"It's right for you," Zim complimented me. "Don't try to be anything else."

"I don't think I could," I confessed.

Zim smiled, and we talked a while longer before he paid the tab and we left the restaurant. "Well? What now?" he wondered, taking my hand as we ventured out into the blasted sun.

"Let's just walk around," I suggested. "Let's just do nothing."

"But nothing—"

"—never happens, I know, I know. So let's see what does."

Zim grinned. "I like that. Sure. Nothing it is."

Our nothing date turned into what I can only describe as fun. I've never sought out _fun_ before, or even thought about it. I find videogames fun. I find annoying my brother fun. But _having fun_ seemed like something for the normal population. I was surprised by now great the day went, honestly.

We went everywhere. Our town has quite the art museum, where we spent a good chunk of time before Zim got bored, so we raced over to the modern art section to give fake, haughty critiques to some of the lesser, crazier works which had been collected most likely accidentally. Once the guards kicked us out of the museum for being disruptive, we found our way into record stores, where I pointed out some of Bloody Nails Melissa's best works, and into the town park, where we watched others pass by, and where we found a more hidden place to be alone.

Once alone, we were quiet, and in the silence, we came together. Before we could plan a thing, Zim's fingers were twined into my hair, my hands were locked around his neck, and we shut out the world. He kissed me, feverishly, over and over again; I breathed him in as my mind begged and pleaded for him not to let go—not to leave. Our makeout session came to an awful end when I caught myself crying, and the next twenty or so minutes were spent with Zim trying to calm me down, stroking my back as I tried to keep my emotions inside and my makeup from smearing.

Even so, the words _"I love you,"_ never passed my lips. I was still too frightened to say them. I was still unsure.

After Zim had succeeded in calming me, he kissed my forehead, helped me up, and set a hand on my back as he led me out of the park. We'd gotten such an early start, we were both already hungry again. This was, I'll add, the hungriest I'd been all week. I blamed it on not knowing what else teenagers did on dates other than take each other out for meals.

"So, where to now?" Zim wondered.

"Hmm..." Attempting to come up with something we hadn't had that week, I went for, "Have you ever had sushi?"

"Can't say that I have," Zim told me, "but I'm up for it! Anything and everything that comes my way today I'm ready for. I want to experience as much as I can." He turned to look at me. "And I want to experience it all with you," he added.

I felt my eyes water again.

"Why?" I wanted to know.

"Cuz that's just the kind of human I am," Zim answered. "Now, where do we find this... 'sushi?'"

I grinned, took his hand in mine, and lead him to the Japanese sushi bar in town. "You _gotta_ try the _unagi,"_ I instructed giddily before I could stop myself. "Eel's my favorite, even if it's cooked. But the raw sushi is even better."

_"Raw?"_ Zim repeated, then burst out laughing. "After all the tangents my mother went off on about raw stuff leading to food poisoning, _you_ go and tell me to eat _this!_ I love it! I love defying the establishment!"

"You did when you were Irken, too," I told him after ordering.

"Really? That must have been one of the traits I kept, then. From what GIR was able to tell me, I lost most of my Irken traits in the transformation. Only a couple remained."

"GIR?" I asked. "Really? He can get serious enough to talk about that sort of thing?"

"Dear _lord,_ no," Zim answered. "What happened was, a couple of days ago, I was starting to doubt that I had ever _been_ Irken," he confessed, "so I asked GIR if he had any proof of my being an Invader."

"Woah. What'd he do?"

"I––this is pretty funny, actually––rigged him up to the television and accessed his memory files," Zim explained. "I was able to _watch_ things I did as an Irken that GIR had 'remembered,' kind of like accessing tapes from a security camera." He laughed. "I pretty much only accepted that it was me because I recognized my voice… sorta." His brown eyes met mine. "It's lower now, isn't it?" he asked me. "I never really noticed until _then._ It just always sounded right to me. Even that first night, in Tak's base."

"Yeah," I confirmed, blushing I'm sure. "Your voice is lower."

Lower, and comforting, and wonderful. Zim's human voice was so noticeably different from his Irken one. It was a little lower, and it had lost its shrill Irken ring. Of course, I'd noticed the smoothness of his voice that first night, when we had been alone, when he had called me beautiful.

Zim sighed. "But even that I've practically forgotten… that day, I mean… because I can't picture myself as an Irken anymore. I told you that, right? I really can't."

"Well, pretty soon, you'll––"

"Let's not talk about 'soon,'" Zim cut in, "let's talk about now. For now… I'm human. For now, I'm your friend."

I blushed (again!) and smiled, and then the sushi was ready. Zim developed quite a taste for it, and requested, a couple hours later, that we return, since it was his only chance to actually _eat_ sushi.

The late morning soon turned to afternoon, and the two of us were still finding new things to do, as if the day would never end. I remember checking my watch at 2:00 for some reason. _Three and a half hours,_ I thought. _That's it. Make it last!_

As though he had been reading my thoughts, Zim asked me, "The day's winding down, huh?"

"Uh-huh," I answered. "I…" My thought was cut off when I noticed a few nearby girls staring at us, obviously angered by the fact that a plain-looking Goth girl like me was out with a guy like eyes narrowed. "I am so _sick_ of girls _staring_ at us like that!"

"Huh?" Zim craned his neck around to see what I was talking about. "Oh."

"Let's get out of here," I growled.

As we started walking away, Zim said, "Hey, Gaz, out of curiosity, um…"

"Hmmm?"

"What is it that _you_ see in me, anyway?"

I went incredibly red and almost blurt out _"EVERYTHING!"_ but I knew that was exactly what he didn't want to hear.

"Your personality," I answered.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah," I said, looking up at him. "You're really nice, especially to me. Nobody's _ever_ treated me the way you do."

Zim smiled. "I _must_ have changed a lot," he laughed. "It was my personality that caused the Tallest to banish me… _twice."_ He stopped walking and held his head. "Woah… I… I _remember_ that?"

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Your memories are returning?"

"Must be," said Zim. "The… 'Tallest…' that's what the Irken leaders are called, right?"

"Yeah." _Wow,_ I thought. _He must have slipped really far if he'd even forgotten that._

"I wonder how tall they actually are," Zim mused. "I wonder if they'd be _intimidated_ by my height now. Wouldn't_ that_ be funny?"

"It'd be pretty interesting, yeah," I concurred. "I doubt they're that much taller than you."

I suddenly wished Zim could be on our side for another reason than to simply be with him. In the battle that I knew would eventually come, he'd be a great fighter for us humans: taller than average Irkens, and nearly as tall as the Tallest themselves, and stronger than them, most likely. I shook my head. _What's to say the battle will even occur when I really hit fifteen?_ I reminded myself. _It'll probably happen sooner than that._

"You okay?" Zim asked me, looking concerned.

"I'm fine… fine," I assured him. I happened to look up right into his gleaming, deep brown eyes. "Your eyes," I said softly.

"What about them?"

"Something else I really like about you," I told him. "Your eyes. I… I don't quite know why, but I do. You just have such deep, expressive eyes."

Zim smiled down at me. "I never knew eyes could have such meaning," he said. "Heh, I never knew a lot of things, until I became human. I wonder… will that knowledge still remain..?"

"I hope so," I whispered.

A slight wind rose up, and Zim said, "Hold on a second, Gaz."

He stopped walking and stood with his eyes closed and his arms slightly outstretched. "Ah, this feels great," he said, mostly to himself, as the wind blew about and swept through his hair and loose-fitting clothes. "Above my height and strength… _this_ is what I'll miss the most about having a human body."

I smiled, feeling great just to see him so happy. That was the moment I have still playing on repeat in my memory. This was Zim the way I always wanted to remember him. This person, this incredible person who had given me so much, deep in his element, completely alive. I see this moment every time I feel a breeze, now. It sounds lame, but I don't care. I do.

I felt a slight chill in the air, so I wrapped my arms around myself to try and generate some heat.

When the wind died down, Zim messed with his hair a little so it fell naturally again, then stepped up to me. _"God,_ I love the feel of wind," he declared. "I always did, but it's even better experiencing it as a human."

"I'm sure there are _lots_ of things that are different," I said.

"Gaz, are you cold?"

"Huh?" I put my arms to my sides. "No, not really," I lied. Just then, I felt a chill again, and shuddered.

"Nonsense," said Zim. "Here, take this," he continued, taking off his sweatshirt and placing it on my shoulders. "It _has_ gotten pretty cold."

"I can't take this," I tried to protest, despite the fact that, even with the garment resting on my shoulders, I was already warmer. "You need it."

"Not as much as you," Zim said. "Put it on; you're freezing."

I'm pretty sure I was blushing again as I pulled the sweatshirt on. It was pretty big on me, because I didn't match Zim's height and stature. My shoulders were too small, and my arms weren't long enough, but that just made the sweatshirt feel even warmer.

"Aren't _you_ cold?" I asked Zim as we continued walking.

"Nah," he said, "it doesn't bother me." He scowled at his wrists. "These cuffs do, though," he snarled, "but at least they're getting looser."

"That probably means you're closer to being Irken," I noted.

"I've only got about two hours left, don't I?"

"More or less."

Zim shook his head. "I can't believe it." I saw tears in his eyes, but, just like all the other times, they did not fall. They never would. It was the Irken in him that stopped him from crying, I concluded. I was, of course, wrong, or just partially right. I recently recalled more of my mother's words, and discovered that the real reason that Zim didn't cry was that he was spiritually unable to. No matter how human he had become, he had no soul.

"Okay, we can't really be out of ideas," said Zim all of a sudden. "There must be––_watch out!"_

Before I could say anything, Zim swiftly scooped me into his arms.

"Hey! What––?" I stuttered.

"You gotta watch where you're walking," Zim said, looking at me concernedly. "You almost fell down an open manhole, for God's sake! You're so skinny you woulda gone right through!"

My heart started beating wildly. "Thanks for saving me," I managed to say.

"No problem," Zim shrugged, setting me gently back on my feet.

I looked down and saw what it was Zim was talking about. It looked like a long fall.

"Um, Gaz… you can let go of my arm now," said Zim, clearing his throat. "You're safe."

"Oh!" I let go, not realizing what I'd been doing. "Sorry! That's your bad arm, too! I'm sorry!"

"You don't have to apologize," Zim smiled, putting a hand on top of my head and ruffling my hair a bit. "Just stay out of trouble, okay?"

I laughed. "Gotcha." Grinning nervously, I said, "I never really noticed your strength outside of battle. You just picked me up like it was nothing!"

Zim ran a hand through his hair and laughed. "It wasn't, really," he said. "You're really light."

"I weigh 115."

Zim raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Feels like about twenty to me."

My eyes widened. "That's really cool how you're still that strong even _without_ your PAK!" I exclaimed. "No offense, but you don't really look as strong as you are."

"No?" Zim rolled up his left sleeve and examined that arm. I kind of noticed, then: it looked like his arm was flexed, but I could tell it wasn't, because his hand was too relaxed. That must have been one of the aspects the other girls saw in him, I realized.

Zim shrugged and rolled his sleeve down, then fished his wallet out of his pocket. "You want dinner?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied.

Since neither of us was very hungry, we simply went out for pizza. Zim laughed at the fact that it was both the first and last thing that he ate as a human.

"You really like our food, don't you?" I asked him.

"Are you kidding?" he replied. "It's awesome! Argh… I wish I'd have the stomach for it once I'm Irken again. I remember, now, how human food would always make me _sick."_

Zim gasped and put a hand to his throat. I knew why: that last sentence was spoken in his Irken voice, and hearing it scared us both. Zim cleared his throat (reminding me of Dib at the begining of the whole incident). "Please go back," he whispered, clearing his throat again.

"Oh, God…" Zim said shakily, his voice returning to its lower, human tone. "That was… that was… _my_ voice…" He stood. "Let's get out of here."

I nodded and walked over to him. He slapped a wad of cash down on the table and led me out. When we were outside, I noticed that the sun had set. For a September night, that was pretty bizarre.

Zim paced, running his hands through his hair. _"Shit,"_ he hissed through clenched teeth. "It's starting." He turned to look at me. "We need to go somewhere… _anywhere!_ I can't be seen like this!"

"There must be a back alley nearby," I said.

Zim clasped my hand. "We need to find one… and _fast!"_ He broke into a run, and I had no choice but to keep up.

After a couple of minutes, Zim found what he was looking for and ducked into an abandoned, dead-end alleyway. "We should both be safe here," he panted.

"It seems like you're trying to outrun the transformation," I pointed out.

"Oh, _man,_ would it be great if I actually could," Zim said forlornly.

Once we'd both caught our breath, Zim wrapped his arms around me and held me close. "Don't let go, Gaz," he pleaded in a whisper. "Please, don't let go just yet."

In the distance, I heard music; the chorus of the song seemed to echo in the alley: "Oh, my love, please don't cry. I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right. All I know is that I love you tonight."

"Sounds about right," Zim commented, obviously hearing it, too.

"Yeah," I agreed, burying my head in his shoulder.

"It's 'our song,' then," said Zim, stroking my hair.

I would have said something in agreement, but the tears came on too fast. I bawled into Zim's shoulder. "Don't leave me, Zim," I sobbed, _"please!_ You're the only friend I've ever had."

"Oh, Gaz…" he whispered softly into my ear. "Thank you for being here for me." As we stood there, so close together, he took in a long breath, then said, his voice still a whisper, "I'd give up everything for you."

"What?" I wondered, clutching him tightly, knowing that soon he'd just disappear.

"Everything I have," he clarified, his fingers lightly woven betwixt my hair. "Every bit of my life as... as I really am... I'd give it all up in a heartbeat for you."

"Zim..." _Does he know what he's saying?_ I wondered.

"I can't ever repay you for the way you've made me feel," Zim continued. "But I'd give up everything for one more day with you."

_Stop it,_ I scolded myself, _stop crying._ No use. "Why?" I asked. "Why are you saying that?"

Subconsciously, I wanted him to just confess again, but all he said was, "You know why. And you'll always be the reason."

He held me for a moment longer, then tilted my chin up and smiled down at me. Gently, he wiped away the tears from my eyes. I could tell that he was crying inside. I gazed into his beautiful dark brown eyes one last time, then stood on my toes and kissed him. Once again, Zim held me as we shared our last kiss. Our kiss goodnight… our kiss goodbye.

When we pulled away, Zim whispered, "Go."

"Wait," I said, "Zim, there's something I need to tell you." _This is it,_ I told myself. _Just say it. Say 'I love you.'_

Just then, the metal cuffs on Zim's wrists cracked. "No time, Gaz!" he nearly shouted. "You have to get _out_ of here! _NOW!"_

Tears streaming out of my eyes, I started to walk away. I turned around, but instead of telling Zim that I loved him, I asked, "Will I ever see you like this again?"

"If I have anything to say about it, you will… I _promise,"_ said Zim. "I can only hope that this side of me will stay alive." The cuffs glowed blue. For the last time in his low, gentle human voice, Zim shouted, "Please, Gaz, get _out_ of here! I don't want you to see this! I don't want to hurt you! Go now! _Run!"_

I took one last look at Zim, the only person I could ever love, then, reluctantly, darted away. A compelling voice in my head told me to only half-listen to his orders. Feeling terrible about it, I rushed up the fire escape of a building overlooking the alley and looked on with sadness and horror as the transformation began, destroying Zim's human life.

A blue light engulfed him, and he cried out, falling to his knees. Both hands flew to his head as he shouted _"NO!"_ in his shrill, commanding Irken voice. _"No!"_ he shouted again. "Stop! Stop it! I don't want to go back! Who _cares_ if I forget everything? I WANT TO BE _HUMAN!"_

I hugged his sweatshirt around me. "For me..?" I whispered shakily. "He loves me that much..?"

Zim let out a bloodcurdling cry of pain and sheer terror, and the light glowed brighter.

"Stop it!" he shouted yet again. "Are you listening, Tak? Stop this right now! I _LOVE_ HER! DOES THAT MEAN _NOTHING? LET ME BE HUMAN!"_

The light was blinding now; I could no longer see Zim, but I could hear him. He cried out again, and the light shot out in all directions. I shielded my eyes, then looked back as soon as it died down. Instantly, my stomach flipped, and my eyes misted up. It was over.

Invader Zim was back to normal, in body, anyway. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at his hands. "NO!" he cried. "No, these… these aren't my hands!" He stood shakily and staggered, examining his newly restored Irken body. "FUCK!" he screamed. "I'm _SHORT!"_ Angrily, he whirled around and punched a fist into the nearest brick wall, then retracted it, shouting _"OW!"_ He rubbed his hand and complained, "It's gone… my strength is _gone!"_ He glared angrily at his hands once more. "Dammit!" he spat. "I'm weak again!"

He scowled. "That Tak…" he snarled. "I'll teach _her_ to give me such a great gift, only to take it away! _GIR!"_ he shouted fiercely.

Almost immediately, GIR rocketed up to him. "You're back!" cried GIR happily.

Zim sighed. "Get me out of here, GIR," he ordered. "Let's go back to the base."

GIR went into duty mode and saluted, then rocketed away again with Invader Zim riding on his back.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I started back down the fire escape. I zipped up Zim's sweatshirt a little, then started off toward home. No matter how fast I ran, it didn't seem fast enough. Just as Zim had wanted to outrun the transformation, I now wanted to outrun all these awful new truths. He was gone. He was _gone._ He was gone, and I missed him more than anything. I felt sick with want. I wanted him back. I wanted the day to start over. I wanted to lie down on a blanket on the roof and wake up beside him, and freeze time and stay right there forever. That, more than anything, proved to me that I was indeed in love. And now it was time to be heartbroken.

When I got to the house, I found Dib on the sofa, reading one of his paranormal magazines. I just sort of stood there. "Dib…" I choked.

My brother looked up and tossed the magazine aside. He walked up to me, looking worried. "Gaz!" he said, putting his hands on my shoulders. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"He's… he's gone…" I sniffed, the tears still steadily falling. "He's really gone!" I cupped my hands over my eyes. "Zim is Irken again!" I cried. "My best friend is _gone,_ Dib!"

"Gaz, it'll be okay," Dib said comfortingly.

I flung my arms around him, and he hugged me back. "He's not _human_ anymore!" I sobbed. "I don't think he ever will be! And… and…"

I felt like GIR: unable to finish sentences while crying.

"And what?" asked Dib, his low voice smooth and calming.

_"I never got to tell him!"_ I cried. "I never told him that I _loved him!"_

"I-I'm sure he knew," Dib said.

"But is that enough?" I wondered. "I never told him, and now I'll never have the chance to! Will he ever really know? Will he ever be human again?"

"I have the feeling that part of him still is," said Dib. "Just as part of him remained Irken through this whole ordeal, I'll bet his human side will continue to have influence on him now."

"Oh, God, Dib, I hope you're right. I really hope you're right." I continued crying for another minute, then forced myself to stop. Dib said nothing, probably knowing that it was best to give me the quiet I needed. After a few moments, I let go and looked up at my brother. "Thanks, Dib," I said.

"For what?"

"For being such a great brother."

Dib smiled. The light brought out the red in his eyes. I had a feeling that it was going to be a permanent change. The red just looked so natural, now… as though his eyes had _always_ had that gleam, and I'd just never noticed.

"We should go up to our rooms," Dib suggested. "The Time Warp will be coming to an end soon."

"Okay," I said.

Dib sighed and took off his trench coat. "You know," he said, "I'm gonna miss being this tall."

"You'll get there," I assured him as we started walking toward the stairs. "You're probably due for a growth spurt in the next year or two, anyway."

Dib laughed. "See you in the past," he said, walking toward his room.

"Don't you mean the present?" I joked, walking into my own room and closing the door.

I stepped over to my broken window and savored the cool, early evening breeze. I don't know how, but the radio turned itself on.

"…An old favorite," the disc jockey announced, "'My Bloody Valentine.'"

After a pause, the song came on softly. "Oh, my love, please don't cry…"

I turned and stared wide-eyed at the radio. I stood in silence and listened until the song ended. I then stepped over and turned the radio off. I unzipped Zim's sweatshirt and wrapped it around me.

"I love you," I whispered. "I know you can't hear me, but I love you."

I wondered if, now, he would even care. I shoved the thought from my mind and laid down on my bed, clutching Zim's sweatshirt tightly. It still carried his scent.

A purple light shone through my window, as it had several days before. I suddenly felt extremely tired. My mind was a mix of relieved, heartbroken, and petrified. Now that we were going back, everything was uncertain. Life would pick up where we had left off, but there was no telling if any of us would come out of this exactly as we had been. Nothing never happens. Nothing is ever certain. I keep telling myself that, over and over. I have to write it down to remind myself that Zim passionately believes that, too.

I closed my eyes and buried my face in Zim's sweatshirt, replaying memories of the past eight days in my head, vividly remembering the wonderful human that Zim had become.

He'd called me beautiful. He'd kissed me. He'd told me that he loved me.

"Please," I whispered to any god who would listen, "don't let this be the end."

I imagined Zim sitting next to me, waiting for me to wake and tell him I loved him. I fell asleep smiling.

– – –

I awoke the next morning to my brother yelling something along the lines of: "Gaz, you've gotta see this!"

I groaned and stirred. I sat up and stretched. Something soft and heavy covered me. I pulled it off and my eyes widened for two rasons. First, my hands. My hands looked so _small!_ I sighed, dejected. We were back. I then gasped at my apparent blanket.

"No way," I breathed. I couldn't believe it: _Zim's sweatshirt!_ It was draped over me, as if placed strategically there. Just as it had the night before, it carried his scent, it carried the memory of his week as a human. "Wouldn't this have disappeared? It's not supposed to exist!"

"GAZ! Get _out_ here! _I mean it!"_

I growled loudly and jumped off my bed, feeling dizzy. I'd gotten so used to being 5'7."

As I walked downstairs and crossed through the living room (back to normal, with our old kitchen behind it), I noticed my game console was on, on the TV. The screen read: "Warped: Game Over. Continue?"

I grinned. "I get it now," I said. "The Time Warp _itself_ was the game. Good one, MiMi." We'd been playing all along, I realized. However, I didn't know whether or not I had won or lost. I played my part, I did what I had to do… but I'd lost my best friend, and come out of the experience with a broken heart.

Though the better part of my conscience told me to ignore it, curiosity got the better of me, and I walked over to the controller. The _x_ button was too inticing. I pressed it. The screen merely shifted to an itemized list, which is something normally found at the end of single battles, or levels. This was a full game summary, based on which player had earned what item. Player Four was listed first. _Ability: Awareness._ GIR. Player Four. I skipped Player Three. These were backwards in the order we had played that night, that one, fantastic, normal night. Player Two. Dib. _Item: Runner. Ability: Insight._ Shit... his eyes. I'd have to check his eyes.

Player One. Me. _Item: ?_ Great. Not even MiMi's game knew what was in the box. That's fine. I'm going to open it in three years, anyway. I can wait a little longer. Besides, the more important thing was...

Player Three.

Zim.

_Ability: Conscience. Ability: Insight. Ability:_

"GAZ, GET OUT HERE!"

Dib's voice jostled me out of reading the rest. I never got to read it. I still wonder what it had said, and I constantly tell myself that it was something positive... something that could hint at a future I know I'll like.

I walked out to the garage, where I knew my brother was.

"Check it out!" he boasted. Dib was, of course, back to himself as well, clad in his usual trench coat and rounded glasses. I got a glimpse of his eyes. Brown for the most part. Red flecks in the light.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, your voice is back to normal," I said, unimpressed.

"What? Oh, yeah, there's that… but look at _this!"_ He gestured to the Spittle Runner. I raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you don't notice! Look! All the repairs I did on it in the future! All my work remained!"

"Creepy. How?"

"No clue! But who cares?" Dib grinned, overjoyed. "Do you know what this means?"

"No."

"Me, neither!"

"Now I remember why you frightened me," I stated blankly.

"Whatever," Dib shrugged. "Ah… you know, I bet I could actually break out of orbit with this thing now!"

"That's great, Dib," I said, only half meaning it. "Look, I've got stuff to do."

"Like what?"

"Contemplate a few things, then go into town."

"What for?"

I smirked. "I think I'm gonna buy a guitar."

My brother smiled. "Go for it."

I went back up to my room. Zim's sweatshirt was still there. I climbed up onto my bed and held it close. "Does this mean I'll see you again?" I wondered. "Does this mean you'll be human again?"

_It must,_ I thought. _Why else would it be here… unless he's definitely going to be human again someday?_

I smiled and sighed, glancing around my room. My daggers were back; the ones Tak had stolen. They had a strange purple glow to them now. I would soon realize that it was nothing to worry about… Tak hadn't done anything to them. They still put me on edge, and I wondered if Zim's arm was still wounded. I wondered if he was still being plagued by flashes of memories—nightmares—from the era of his life he was in the dark about. I wondered if I would ever learn more about that part of his life, and if he would ever open up to me again. More than anything, I just wanted to keep what we had.

I wanted us to keep our promise to help each other. That was the closest thing I could hope for, now, and I told myself to cling to at least that. No matter how like his old Invader self Zim could now become, I had to keep his human side alive at least in my memory. I had to keep at least this constant.

I went into town later and bought myself a black, acoustic guitar. "This must have been the one," I said to myself once I'd brought the instrument home. I thought I'd have to practice a lot before I got as good as I was during the warp, but I found that playing the guitar was just a natural skill. Thanks for at least that, Mom.

The first song I picked out this time was not "Ode To A Dying Day," but, rather, "My Bloody Valentine." I hadn't had the chance to play the guitar for Zim again after our date, I realized. That hurt to know, and still hurts to remember, but I keep telling myself that I'll keep practicing... that he'll hear me play again yet. No matter what.

"I don't know much at all," I sang, "I don't know wrong from right. All I know is that I love you tonight."

I resolved to work on my singing. "Girls my age don't usually have great voices, anyway," I reminded myself.

I remember my mother having a lovely voice. I remembered words, in her native Finnish, filling the house and bringing us together. Just as Dad had always had the gift for all things scientific, Mom had been gifted in music. I hoped singing would eventually come naturally to me, too.

I set down the guitar and picked up Zim's sweatshirt. Out of the left pocket fell a small box and an attached note. Something he forgot to give me? _Oh,_ I remembered,_ he'd asked me to remind him of something..._ But we hadn't gotten the chance. The date had gone off on its own, and I'd forgotten all about the fact that Zim had something else he had wanted to share with me.

I opened the note, carefully unfolding the paper so as not to disturb the writing or tear even a tiny bit of one corner.. "Gaz," it read in Zim's shaky handwriting, "open this in about three years. You'll understand why at the time."

Part of me wanted to open it right then and there, but, since I'd disobeyed him the night before, I decided not to. I placed the box on the bedside table where, I resolved, it would sit for the next three years. I'm looking at it now, letting my fingers do the typing. Three years. That's all. Something, I keep having to tell myself, will happen in three years. Until then, I'll hold onto this, I'll keep this gift from him nearby at all times. And more than anything, I'll do what I must to play my part.

The Time Warp has passed, but my story is far from being over. I still have a battle to prepare for, and I'm sure that I have an important duty to fulfill. Tak will return, I'm certain. The Irkens won't be able to ignore Earth much longer. But when they come, I'll be ready. As a family unit, now, Dib and I are more powerful, and more prepared. I'll play my part gladly, now. I'm ready. I am ready.

Oh, yes. And I am patiently waiting, with hope in my heart, for that day, somewhere in the future, when Zim will be human again.

–the end–

**Song Credits:**

"My Bloody Valentine" - Good Charlotte [I realized, looking back, that this isn't my favorite choice, but I kept it in since I didn't want to change too much in the final edit... :3]

**Author's Closing Note:**

Aaaaaand, that's it! I hope you have enjoyed reading_ Time Warp Factor Five. _(Hugest thanks to my good friends A_, J_ and D_ who read the original-original _TWFF,_ and provided feedback, gave input, and helped edit in many places! 3)

And I know, there are still a lot of questions to be answered. But next week, I'll begin posting (in much smaller quantities, I promise) the sequel, Part One of what is titled _The Mandylion Saga. IZMS: Part One: Changes_ will start up next week, and begin answering many questions, and setting up a much bigger plot... :3

Thank you again for reading! Do let me know what you think; I love feedback~~!

~Jizena~


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